


A Kind of Magic

by selinamoonfire



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selinamoonfire/pseuds/selinamoonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard McCoy never believed in magic until that belief was forced upon him.  When Jim Kirk beamed down to Rosa, he never expected to find himself in the middle of a fairy tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Once there was a planet, old in tradition but young in technology. Its people celebrated and respected the forces of nature and the benevolent will of their Gods. Their culture matured, though their respect for the Gods and their magic never diminished, creating a society that eventually became of interest to the Federation.

An alliance was made, and as a gesture of good-will, a young doctor was sent to school the planet’s healers in modern medicine. The people of Rosa respected the doctor but were disdainful of his so-called enlightened methods, preferring the old ways of prayer and incantation to the technology he had brought with him to the planet.

The doctor was arrogant, sure of his knowledge and the technology the Federation relied on to heal its people, however the people of Rosa remained true to their healers and time-honored methods.

Soon after his arrival, the planet was struck by a plague, one that affected everyone but had a particular fondness for children. The doctor tried to help the people of Rosa, but most of the plague victims refused his help, wanting only the attention of healers of their homeworld. Only once nothing else had worked would they bring their ill to the modern doctor in hopes for a miracle.

The doctor worked himself well past the point of exhaustion in an effort to save the plague victims, but he could not save everyone. Most had waited too long, their trust in the older ways becoming their downfall.

One of those ill-fated patients was the daughter of two of the most influential people on Rosa. Her father was what in old Earth governments would have been called a king. Her mother was the high priestess, an intermediary between the Gods and their worshipers. They had taken the child to their best healers, praying to every God to listen to their pleas. Finally, when all else failed, the girl was presented to the doctor.

Immediately the doctor knew that her parents had waited too long, but still he struggled and fought to preserve their daughter’s life. He did everything he could, enraged when all his attempts were eventually rebuffed by implacable death.

Furious, almost crazed over the loss of his young patient, the doctor condemned the people of Rosa and their traditions, mocking their Gods as constructs of an illiterate culture. The girl’s father was prepared to order the doctor’s death for his acts of sacrilege, but his wife intervened. She had witnessed how relentlessly the doctor had worked to save the children of the local villages and understood that it was grief that had sharpened the doctor’s tongue.

The king demanded that the doctor be punished while the high priestess begged for leniency. She, and the parents of all the children that the doctor had been able to save, finally prevailed upon the king’s conscience. However the doctor had committed blasphemy and, for that, he had to be punished.

The Gods looked into the doctor’s heart, learning that his actions had been motivated not by heresy, but by grief. Love lost combined with guilt for misdeeds both real and imagined had been the cause of his blasphemy.

A glimpse into the doctor’s memories offered the proper punishment – the doctor would be forced to live in a world created by the magic that he so scorned, destined to follow the traditional path of love and redemption that was the common thread through all the stories favored by someone he had loved but could not save.

The doctor was escorted to a valley far from the village, a place that was held sacred because magic ran so strongly through the land. Before she set her spell into motion, the high priestess implored the doctor to take back the words he had spoken in anger, to beg for the Gods’ forgiveness.

Still grieving the death of his young patient and losses that were far more personal, the doctor again lashed out, sealing his fate. His condemnations continued until the ground shook beneath his feet, silencing him only moments before the magic caught hold and swept him into a blinding whirl of gold-tinged light.

Muscles and bones twisted, sculpting a wrenching agony that dragged an anguished cry from the doctor that would linger in the nightmares of all that witnessed the man’s punishment. Fur burst through pale skin as teeth lengthened into fangs and nails grew into thick, curved claws.

The doctor’s screams echoed through the valley, almost drowning out the sounds of stone being torn from the depths of Rosa to be shaped by a quieter, though no less impressive, transformation. Pale gray rock smoothed into a structure that resembled a castle from a child’s storybook while shimmering white blocks formed themselves into an impossibly high wall.

When the magic had finished, the high priestess moved to the doctor’s side, gently placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered reassurances that his transformation was not permanent. As he tried to move a body not-quite his, she promised him that the magic of Rosa would protect him and keep him in comfort, his new home kept hidden from any who would do him harm.

Her family would honor his life as a healer and find a way to release him from the spell that now bound him. She explained that though they would do everything possible to assist him, the breaking of the enchantment would hinge on the doctor’s own actions and those of another. Until he once again understood love and forgiveness, Dr. Leonard McCoy would be forced to remain a beast . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Years passed and Rosa was nearly forgotten by the Federation until another plague swept across the Universe, infecting the youngest citizens of dozens of worlds. In the frantic search for a cure for the terrible disease, Dr. McCoy’s research was discovered. Though many years had passed since the doctor had filed his reports, the information he had sent to his superiors was still valid, providing a tantalizing hope that the plague could be stopped.

Before Dr. McCoy had mysteriously stopped transmitting his reports decades earlier, he had mentioned an indigenous plant – a unique flower that resembled the wild roses found on Earth – that he believed may be the key to creating medications to counteract the plague.

Starfleet sent its flagship, the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ , to Rosa, hoping to find more of the doctor’s research and secure permission to export the flowers off-planet so their medicinal properties could be explored. The ship and its crew were welcomed and treated as honored guests by the populace. After many festivals and feasts, the high priestess – an bright, middle-aged woman named Sheree - met with the _Enterprise’s_ captain, requesting that he and each of his senior officers participate in a religious ceremony that would confer the Gods’ favor upon the renewed alliance between the people of Rosa and the Federation.

Captain Pike and his officers agreed to the high priestess’ request. Sheree reassured each person that the ceremony posed no danger to anyone involved and would bestow the blessings of the Gods to each one of them. James Tiberius Kirk listened to the woman’s words, doubtful that such promises could be honored. Though young for his post, the first officer had seen too many good intentions spoiled by the whims of what could only be called fate, but Sheree believed her promises, so he would attempt to do the same.

They each went through the rites in a particular order that Jim couldn’t quite figure out. It wasn’t by rank, though Pike was the first one guided into the temple by a pair of teenage girls that looked enough like Sheree that they might be the high priestess’ daughters. Sulu was next, followed by Spock. When Jim what had happened during the ceremony, both of the officers refused to answer, explaining that Sheree had warned them not speak of the rite.

Chekov charmed the young women with his accent and curls. When the high priestess led him into the room, the girls pouted and muttered indignantly, although too quietly for Jim to pick up more than a few indistinct words. He thought, perhaps, that the male members of the crew were being chosen first, but that hypothesis was disproved when Sheree indicated that Uhura would be the next person to be blessed.

The younger priestesses grinned widely as they led Uhura into the inner temple, trying to look dignified while whispering excitedly behind the lieutenant’s back. The look that passed between the girls reminded him of ones that he and his brother Sam had shared before getting into some harmless mischief. Jim would have been concerned, but he knew that Sheree would not allow her priestesses to spoil the ceremony, and Uhura could easily deal with whatever antics two teenage girls could dream up.

Eventually, the women returned to the outer chamber. Uhura wore the look of intense concentration that was so common when she was trying to memorize important details that would help improve her understanding of a new culture, while the younger priestesses walked dejectedly beside her. Sheree seemed unfazed by whatever had caused the teenagers’ disappointment. The high priestess watched him, smiling faintly as she beckoned him forward. The girls looked at him, shaking their heads minutely before escorting him to the inner temple.

The room was smaller than he expected, sparsely decorated, and lit with lanterns that threw strange shadows across the bare floors and walls. A table made of pale wood stood in the middle of the space, objects similar to ones he’d seen used in dozens of religious ceremonies from dozens of different planets carefully aligned across its surface.

His eyes lingered on the matte-black, curved blade of a knife that rested beside a small bowl filled with a dark red flower that reminded him of roses. A shiver of apprehension made its way down his spine, but he found that he could not look away, strangely fascinated by the strange tableau.

Sheree noticed his distraction, moving slowly to Jim’s side and placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Don’t let my daughters’ antics disturb you, Mr. Kirk. They’re young and still have much to learn about the mysteries of the universe.”

It sounded like something his mother would have said about him when he was sixteen, reassuring in its familiarity. He forced his gaze away from the table and grinned wryly. “So I shouldn’t worry that I’m about to be offered up as a sacrifice?”

“I promised your captain that none of you would be harmed,” Sheree scolded with a gentle laugh. “Though, I understand your concern. Confronting the unknown can be daunting, though your peers seemed to view this all as nonsense. Not that any of them were so impolitic to voice those beliefs.” Her expression sharpened, becoming shrewd. Thoughtful. “I’m surprised you’re not dismissing our ways as nothing more than superstition.”

“ _There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,_ ” Jim quoted, earning a pleased smile from the high priestess and a jolt of surprise for himself when Sheree seemed to recognize his words.

“An educated man,” Sheree smiled, obviously pleased by his literary knowledge. “Have you read the works of Earth’s great Bard?”

“I haven’t read all of Shakespeare’s plays but I have a fondness for _Hamlet_ and a few others. I wasn’t sure that you would be familiar with them.”

“When the Federation first contacted Rosa, we were introduced to some of the great literary works from other planets. Those texts are greatly treasured by my people. Shakespeare is one of my favorites.” Sheree moved to the table, fussing with the placement of her ritual tools before looking up at Jim. “Do you believe those immortal words, Mr. Kirk?” Sheree asked, her tone light, though the weight of her gaze caused his breath to catch, making him wonder if there was more to the ceremony than just ancient words spoken in a room lit by flickering flame.

Jim swallowed hard, considered the fact that he _was_ what Sheree had described him as: an educated man. He had been taught to dismiss what could not be measured using the physical senses as nothing more than fantasy, but his experiences while serving aboard the _Enterprise_ had proven that Universe was far more complex than any one individual could understand. He considered the answer that he was supposed to give as an officer of Starfleet and then answered truthfully. “With all the things I’ve seen since I enlisted . . . yeah, I do.”

His answer seemed to win her approval. “I had the feeling that you were different than the others, Mr. Kirk. Let us begin and we’ll see if my intuition is correct.”

The ceremony was simple. Sheree chanted in a language that he didn’t understand, but sounded old, though he wasn’t sure how he drew that conclusion. Her voice flowed smooth and deep, steadying his thoughts until Jim found the type of clarity that was often described as part of meditation.

Sheree painted some sort of glyph on his forehead with oil that smelled of sweet, ripe fruit. Incense was cast upon a brazier, scenting the air with smoke that tasted faintly of something that was almost like ginger. The knife that had so fascinated him was used for no more dangerous purpose than to cut a slice of bread from a loaf kept in a covered basket that Jim had barely noticed before the ceremony began. More words were spoken in the ancient language before the high priestess and the first officer each took a bite of heavy grain bread, sharing the Gods’ blessings in a tangible form.

The not-quite-a-rose was never touched, never referred to, at least not in any way that Jim could understand. It remained in its bowl, a blur of deep luxurious red that tugged at his peripheral vision, occasionally distracting his thoughts.

As the ritual drew to an end, Sheree gave him a wan smile. “We’re almost done, Mr. Kirk. There is one more step, but it can be unsettling so I must ask if you would grant me the honor of continuing.”

“Unsettling?” Jim blinked, pulling himself out of the trance-like reverie that had overtaken him during the ceremony. “Unsettling how?”

He expected Sheree to respond to his questions with impatience, but her smile didn’t fade. She seemed pleased by his curiosity and caution. “The normal reaction is nothing more serious than a slight dizziness or a mild headache that quickly fades. Both are accompanied by a sense of well-being that lessens the discomfort. It’s rare, but if someone is particularly favored by the Gods, they may see brief flashes of the past or future.”

“So it’s kinda like a Vulcan mind meld?”

“I’ve never experienced a mind meld, so I cannot say.”

“Vulcans are touch empaths. They do this thing called a mind meld that allows them to share memories or thoughts by touching certain points on a person’s face,” Jim explained. “Spock would be able to describe it better than I can.”

Sheree shook her head. “I’m not an empath of any sort. I serve as a bridge between the Gods and this reality. Sometimes they allow me to witness those rare visions that they give to the person I connect them to, but I have no gift without the Gods’ assistance.”

Jim ignored the uneasiness that tried to unsettle his stomach. Sheree spoke of her connection with the Gods with such sincerity that it was hard not to be apprehensive despite all of her reassurances. Of course, since she _was_ a priestess she would have faith in the Gods she had devoted her life to serving, but it was still unnerving, sparking a caution that he normally did not exhibit. “What would I have to do?”

“There is nothing to fear. All that is required of you is to allow me to touch your temples and the rest will be performed by the Gods.”

“That’s what has me worried,” Jim muttered as Sheree stepped closer.

Her smile twitched faintly as she suppressed a chuckle. “I promise you, Mr. Kirk, that our Gods are neither vengeful nor capricious. This is a rite that all our people go through when they’ve reached adulthood. It helps guide a person toward the life that they are meant to find.”

Jim was sure that Sheree intended to placate his fears, but despite her words and his own normally impulsive nature, there was something disconcerting about the entire situation. He felt like he was about to beam down to a world without knowing anything about the planet or what dangers would be waiting for him. Actually, it was worse since that was pretty much a weekly occurrence for him.

He’d been truthful when he’d said that he believed in what couldn’t be explained in conventional terms, but believing didn’t mean that he was comfortable with being an active participant in such events. He reminded himself that the other officers had gone through the ceremony with nothing more harmful happening than Uhura contracting her usual case of new culture curiosity. There was no reason for him to feel as if his entire existence would change in a few, brief moments.

The high priestess raised her hands and, ignoring his unease, Jim bowed his head, making it easier for the woman to press her fingertips to the correct places. Her hands felt warm against his skin, a strange prickling sensation working its way along his scalp and down his neck.

The sense of well-being that Sheree had described wrapped itself around him, slowing the nervous beat of his pulse, easing the rhythm of his breath. Something approaching euphoria gripped him, stealing away the last of his apprehension. His eyes focused on Sheree’s momentarily before drifting shut.

Colors swirled behind his eyelids, jewel-bright tones that that slowly resolved into an image of the blood-red rose before disappearing into soft-edged darkness. Other colors, other images, shimmered through his mind. Towering evergreens with needles shaded deep blue-green. Pale, sunlit stone that flashed blinding white against his closed eyes. A chaotic swirl of gilt and silver that flickered past too quickly for him to identify.

Eventually, the visions slowed. The colors faded, leaving only a velvet-dark shadow, huge and foreboding, in their wake. Abstractly, Jim felt a whisper of terror, but it was fleeting, unimportant. He tried to make out details, but each attempt was met with failure. As the darkness shifted, Jim found himself staring into sharp, hazel eyes filled with rage and loss.

It _hurt_ to look into those eyes. Jim felt himself startle away from that pained gaze, the pressure of Sheree’s fingers against his temples a distant reminder that his movement hadn’t actually translated to the body he felt disconnected from. _Who are you? What can I do to help you?_ Jim tried to ask, frustrated when he found that he had no voice, no way of conveying his thoughts to whoever lingered in the darkness.

“Come back, Mr. Kirk. It is time for you to return.”

Sheree’s words were firm, insistent, pulling Jim from his vision until his body felt like it again belonged to him. He shivered, shaking off the last vestiges of disorientation. The vivid images that had filled his mind slipped away, fragmented and broken.

The high priestess watched him, her hands still warm and intimate against the sides of his head, an appraising moment passing between them before she moved away. He recognized some sort of power within her - whether it was the touch of a deity or simply the sort of energy that he’d witnessed when in the presence of great leaders he was uncertain – and understood why Sheree had been chosen as the temple’s high priestess.

“So how’d I do?” Jim asked, trying to sound cocky though his voice cracked slightly as he spoke.

“You did well, Mr. Kirk,” Sheree said, the aura of high priestess receding, leaving behind the thoughtful woman who had fussed over his worries with almost motherly concern. She smiled at him, her expression so bright and full of hope that he was uncertain how to react. “Better than I dared to pray for.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sheree’s unexpected praise was unnerving. The whole situation was unnerving. Strange visions that he couldn’t remember five minutes after the ceremony combined with the knowledge that _having_ the visions meant that some deity had decided James Tiberius Kirk was _interesting_ could _not_ be taken as a good sign.

He wasn’t allowed to let his thoughts linger on the visions and their possible meanings or Sheree’s reaction to them. Once the ceremony was completed and he had been escorted back to his waiting crewmates, they were all ushered into the town square where another festival was underway.

Jim was soon caught up in the whirl of activities, urged to join the dances and games by Kira and Lena, the two young priestesses he’d met at the temple. The festival reminded him of the fairs that he’d visited as a child, distracting him from superstitions and thoughts of Gods and their whims. Jim had almost forgotten about the ritual until Captain Pike interrupted Lena’s attempts at teaching him one of the local dances while Kira sang some silly song that seemed to have an infinite number of verses.

“Sheree would like to speak to us,” Pike announced, ignoring the girls’ pouting as he nodded his head toward the small garden outside the temple where the high priestess waited. Jim smiled apologetically at his companions and followed Pike through the crowd.

The garden was strangely quiet despite the excitement that permeated the town, the sound of breeze-tumbled leaves masking all sound but the faintest hum of music coming from the busy square. Sheree greeted them, her demeanor a mixture of her role as priestess and that of a hostess, offering them a seat on the low stone benches that were nearly hidden by lush beds of white flowers.

As they chatted politely for a few minutes, Jim forcibly kept his thoughts from his visions and why Sheree had asked to meet with both him and the captain. Eventually, Sheree decided that the necessities had been observed and turned the conversation to the reason she had requested their presence. “I’ve spoken with the Elders. They have reviewed the terms of the treaty and are agreeable, except they would like to make one new provision before our people accept.”

The words caused Jim’s spine to straighten, his nerves suddenly strung tight, though, if asked, he wouldn’t have been able to explain why. He was used to negotiations and the politely worded battles of dominance that always accompanied them, however this was entirely different. He glanced at Pike, but the older man seemed just as relaxed before, calmly waiting for whatever demand the people of Rosa wanted to make.

Sheree flushed slightly, glancing away before speaking. “If you want to study the _r’va_ flowers, then your first officer must agree to stay on Rosa to be offered to our Gods.”

Jim froze, heart stuttering in his chest as Sheree’s words worked their way through his mind. _Offered to our Gods._ He should’ve known. Dammit, he should’ve known that something like this would happen as soon as he realized he’d had one of those rare visions that seemed so important to the high priestess.

He resisted the urge to look at Pike, keeping his gaze directed slightly over Sheree’s right shoulder as he waited for his captain’s answer. He knew that Pike would refuse. He would never leave a member of his crew behind, but would that be the _right_ course of action? If the people of Rosa were adamant about this particular demand, no amount of cajoling or reasoning would sway them. The flowers were needed if the Federation was going to find a cure to the plague. They couldn’t let what might be their only chance at stopping the disease slip away.

“The Federation does not condone human sacrifice.” The words were spoken with an easy grace that conflicted with the warning so evident in his tone.

“Sir, you misunderstand. We have no intention of harming your first officer.”

Pike leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his expression unyielding. “You said that he would be offered to your gods. In most cultures that means some sort of sacrifice.”

“No, captain. Our people do not believe in sacrificing either man or animal to our deities. Your first officer would not be harmed in any way by our people.” Sheree turned to Jim, making a helpless gesture that asked for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kirk. That was not what I meant. The vision that you had during the ceremony showed that you were meant to perform an important task for our people. We are asking that you stay here and serve our Gods by following that path that they have offered you.”

Pike began to speak, but Jim managed to find his voice before Pike could again object. “How long would I have to stay?”

“Six months,” Sheree offered. “At most six months.”

“That’s unaccept-”

“Sir!” Jim interrupted sharply. He could feel Pike glaring at him, but was so used to that particular reaction from his captain that it was easily ignored. Jim turned to Sheree, giving her the most charming smile he could muster. “Could we discuss this new provision in private for a few minutes?”

“Of course.” The high priestess stood, nodding to the two men who hastily regained their feet in a near-forgotten sign of courtesy. “There are things that need my attention in the temple. When you’ve made your final decision, you may join me there.”

Jim knew he would catch hell later for undermining Pike’s stance, but he hadn’t been able to think of any other way to gain the man’s attention. They didn’t have a choice, and, no matter how much Pike argued, that fact would not change.

Pike waited three full minutes after Sheree disappeared into the temple before turning to Jim, his eyes blazing with anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, commander?” he hissed. “Starfleet does not condone such strong-arm tactics and neither do I. If you think I’m going to leave one of my people behind you’re gravely mistaken.”

“Our orders were to do whatever it takes to get that trade agreement signed.” Jim was amazed that he could keep his voice level with Pike looking at him as if he was considering throwing Jim out an airlock as soon as they were back on the _Enterprise_. He was used to upsetting his COs, but their reactions usually weren’t so vehement. “We need those plants, sir. They may be the only way to stop that damned plague.

“I don’t think giving them my first officer was what Starfleet meant!”

“You aren’t giving me to them. They’re only borrowing me.” Jim grinned, though his expression quickly became serious. “They want me to stay. If I don’t, then we lose what might be our only hope at finding a cure. It’s not like I’m irreplaceable.”

Pike scrubbed a hand over his face before giving him a dubious look. “Jim, it’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is captain,” Jim snapped. “This disease infects and kills _kids_. If the scientists are right, and these flowers are necessary to synthesize a cure, then the medicines derived from this plant could save countless lives. We _need_ these people to agree.”

“You’d trust these people with your life?” Pike asked softly.

Jim glanced over his shoulder to watch the doorway Sheree had disappeared through. “Yeah, I do. Even if I didn’t, I’d still agree to stay. There are too many lives at stake for me to worry about mine.”

Pike shook his head, the last of his anger fading into resignation. “You’re too much like your father, Jim.”

“Maybe self-sacrifice is part of the Kirk genetic code. I don’t know.” Jim shrugged. “If you can think of another way to get them to agree, I’d love to hear it.”

Pike dragged a hand through his graying hair, sighing heavily. “I can’t think of anything,” he admitted reluctantly. “I don’t like this. It feels off to me, but if these people are so adamant about keeping you here and you’re willing to stay -”

“Not exactly willing. I just don’t see any other choice.” Jim refused to acknowledge that he too shared that feeling, premonition, whatever it was. He refused to let it creep into his thoughts and make him doubt that he was making the right choice. “But it’s only for six months.

“A lot can happen in six months.”

“Yeah, it can,” Jim agreed, forcing a wry grin that he hoped would hid his anxiety. “Especially aboard the _Enterprise_. Think you can remember to swing by and pick me up when my shift is over?”

Pike chuckled softly, though his eyes were dark with worry. “There’s no way I can talk you out of this?” It was more of a statement than a question, the captain’s voice hollow, resigned.

If it were possible to find some other way to convince the people of Rosa to agree to the treaty, Jim would have jumped upon it. But there was no other option. He _had_ to agree. “None, sir.”

Pike nodded before slowly standing. His expression was distant, hard, but Jim knew that Pike’s ire was directed at the situation, not at him. “I’ll inform Sheree that the Federation will agree to their terms.”

Jim began to follow Pike. When the other man turned suddenly, Jim stumbled back a step. “Don’t take too much after your father, Kirk,” Pike warned. “It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to explain to Starfleet that I’m letting the local Gods borrow my first officer. I am _not_ going through all the paperwork necessary to replace you permanently, understood?”

“Yes, sir. Though, I’m not planning on dying anytime soon,” Jim chuckled, the nervous feeling that had wound itself around his chest since the ceremony loosening slightly. “I wouldn’t want you wear yourself out breaking in a new first officer.”

Pike gave him the same exasperated look that he’d been aiming at Jim since they’d met five years ago in that Riverside dive where Pike had convinced him to enlist. “I doubt that Starfleet could find another first officer as exhausting as you. Putting up with your juvenile antics has given me more than enough patience and endurance to train your replacement, which will _not_ be necessary because in six months you will be returning to your post.”

The exasperated look intensified into a glare, warning Jim that any more stupid heroics or attempts at witty commentary would have dire consequences. He nodded, deciding that it was best not to push his captain further.

Pike’s shoulders sagged slightly. Jim knew that the barely perceptible shift would be the only sign of defeat that Pike would allow himself. “I would have made the same decision, Jim, if I’d had to, but that doesn’t mean I like having one of my officers forced to make it.”

“I know, sir.”

Resigned, Pike turned toward the temple. “Let’s go tell her that we’ll accept their terms.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

He hadn’t realized how hard it would be to be left behind. Serving on the _Enterprise_ had been the focus of his life for years. He’d finally made it, but now he was letting that dream go. Even if it was for only a few, short months, it still felt like he might never get her back.

He kept his smile bright as he said his goodbyes, unwilling to let the others see how much his decision to stay was costing him. He made jokes with Chekov and promised Sulu that they’d resume their fencing lessons as soon as he returned. Uhura watched him shrewdly, though she didn’t make any of her usual comments. The lack of their usual sharp banter made the situation seem grimmer, as did the brief hug she’d given him that was accompanied by a softly whispered warning to be careful.

Spock’s reaction was harder to gauge, though Jim knew that Spock understood and agreed with his decision. It was one of the few times that the Vulcan believed Jim had acted logically. Somehow, the praise along with the words ‘live long and prosper’ weren’t as reassuring as Spock meant them to be.

Pike stood to one side, letting his officers say their farewells. After they’d told Sheree that the Federation would agree to the final provision, there had been no more attempts by the captain or any of the other officers to talk Jim out of staying. Jim had been grateful for that kindness, especially when the older man stepped forward to shake hands, the pride in his eyes silencing Jim’s attempts at humor. “I never would have asked you to do this.”

Jim allowed his smile to slip, letting Pike see beyond the persona he was showing the others. “You wouldn’t have had to.”

“Be careful, Mr. Kirk.”

This time his smile was genuine, brittle around the edges, but truthful. “I will be.”

“We’ll be back for you in six months. If something happens and you need to be extracted before then, contact Starfleet and we’ll be here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Jim stepped way from his fellow officers – his friends –as Pike informed the _Enterprise_ were ready to beam up. Five instead of six. The shock of hearing those words almost eclipsing the sense of loss he felt. He reminded himself that six months wasn’t that long, only a little longer than a semester at the Academy, as he watched them disappear in a whirl of shimmering white.

When the last, lingering motes of light had faded, Sheree stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Mr. Kirk. Soon you’ll be back among the stars.”

Jim tipped his head back, gazing upward to the stars that were masked by the pale morning sky. Even if it were full night, he still wouldn’t be able to see his ship, but the gesture helped ease the dry ache that caught at his throat. He’s spent his whole life dreaming of traveling between the stars. He’d been given a taste of it only to be grounded without any sort of warning. He knew it was temporary, but that knowledge didn’t make it any easier to accept. “Yeah, I know,” he answered, ignoring the bitterness edging his words. “It’s only six months.” 

**# # #**  

Sheree stood beside him patiently for what felt like hours, but from the still-brightening morning sky, could only have been a few minutes. He forced back his pointless anger and the sudden, futile grief that had clenched at his chest since he realized the _Enterprise_ truly was gone from him, before turning toward the high priestess.

He cleared his throat, telling himself that he was acting like an idiot. It was a starship; he shouldn’t be feel like he’d lost someone flesh and blood. “When can we go to the holy place where I’ll be staying?”

Sheree’s hand tightened around his arm, a gentle pressure that he shouldn’t have found reassuring, not when she had performed the ceremony that had been the reason he had forced to remain behind. “We can wait until tomorrow, Mr. Kirk,” Sheree offered softly. “The Elders will understand if you need time to adjust to your new situation.”

“Will the Gods be as lenient?”

The hesitancy in her voice vanished, replaced by sure authority. “Yes, they will.”

He was tempted to make some flippant remark, then decided it wasn’t wise to annoy the only person on Rosa that he could consider an ally; a woman that was a direct link to the Gods he was supposed to spend the next six months serving. “I’d rather do it now. Get it all over with at once. Like ripping a bandage off instead of trying to peel it away slowly.”

The high priestess stared at him for a moment before beginning to laugh quietly. “It won’t be that bad, Jim. I promise. Someday, you’ll look back and be grateful that you made this choice.”

“I already am,” he answered automatically. He was. Despite the foolish grief that he couldn’t quite shake, he still believed he’d made the right choice.

“Because staying will result in other lives being saved, but eventually you will find other reasons to be glad that you stayed here.”

He wanted to ask her what she meant, but before he could consider what exactly he should ask, she turned away. “Come with me. The site is about half a day’s ride from here. If you really wish to go today, then we should leave soon.”

Jim cast one last look toward the sky, toward the stars that were no longer his, before following the high priestess back to the temple.

**# # #**  

Jim hadn’t expected their ride to be a pair of creatures that Sheree called _k’tars_. She laughed when she noticed his surprise, explaining that it was improper to travel to a site protected by the Gods using modern transportation. He pressed her about the ban and she explained that technology worked intermittently near the Gods’ magic.

He steadfastly ignored thoughts of Gods or magic, focusing on the _k’tars_ before he could start questioning the wisdom of his decision. The animals were sturdy looking with long, strong legs, cat-like ears, and smooth slightly-wooly coats. They resembled horses enough that Jim was sure that he could ride without making a fool of himself.

Sheree packed a few supplies, more for a possible emergency than from need. When he had mentioned how little they were taking with them, she had simply said that everything he needed would be provided, but refused to tell him how or by whom. They lashed the duffle containing what little he’d brought from the ship to the saddle; some clothes and a few personal items, although, after Sheree’s comments about technology, he wondered if he should have left the PADDs of his favorite holos and books behind.

The ride was made in uncertain silence, all of Jim’s attempts at conversation only emphasizing how little Sheree was willing to disclose about his servitude. Preferring the unknown to half-answered questions that only added to his morbid imaginings, Jim gave up on coaxing the high priestess into speaking.

Instead, he focused on the smooth, pale road ahead of him, the ripple of wind-touched branches, the soft chiming of their mounts’ tack. The forest pressing in around them should have felt threatening. He had grown up surrounded by wide, open fields that spread out for miles, but there was something oddly comfortable – comforting - about the canopy of branches high above and the tumble of brambles below. 

He should have felt apprehensive at least, maybe even terrified. He’d agreed to the Elders’ demand with no real knowledge of what was expected of him. Any questions asked by either Pike or himself had been politely deflected or simply ignored, but as he rode through the dappled sunlight that filtered down through the trees, he felt no anxiety, strangely accepting of the unknown that he soon would be confronting.

Eventually, Sheree led them through a small gap between the trees to a clearing that Jim barely would have noticed if he had been traveling alone. They rested the _k’tars_ for half an hour, watering the animals at a nearby stream before letting them browse on whatever vegetation interested them.

Jim found a spot that was relatively free of twigs and stones beneath one of the evergreens and leaned against the rough, silvery bark to watch the swaying shadows that played across the clearing. Sheree studied him thoughtfully, her eyes almost luminous in the forest twilight. He forced himself not to squirm under her scrutiny. “You don’t seem to be bothered by the forest,” she commented, running her fingers lightly over a purple wildflower that had somehow managed to thrive despite the meager sunlight.

“Should I be?”

“Most people find it too dark, too oppressive, to be comfortable here.”

“You’re not bothered by it,” Jim observed.

“No, I’m not, but I’ve been visiting this forest since I was a girl.” Sheree smiled as she leaned her elbows against her knees. “I think it’s a good sign that the forest doesn’t affect you like it does others, especially since it borders the valley you’ll be living in.”

Jim glanced around at the tangle of bracken and shadowed tree trunks and shrugged. “I’m not used to forests, at least not forests like this one, but I don’t feel claustrophobic or like there’s some sort of monster lurking in the shadows waiting to eat me.”

Sheree stilled, her hand hovering over soft, green leaves, causing Jim to wonder if he should have asked fewer questions about what the Gods expected from him and more questions about the local predators. “Should I be worried that something’s going to eat me?”

The high priestess shook her head, but there was a nervous tension running through her that made Jim suspicious. “No. The only animals on Rosa that are large enough to harm humans live high in the mountains and rarely leave their territory. Though, there are stories about the forest and what lives in it.”

Jim tipped his head to one side, giving Sheree a skeptical look. “Stories?”

“This land is touched by the Gods. Curious things happen here and that causes people to talk, stories to evolve.”

“But there’s nothing to them, right?”

The high priestess had the decency to seem embarrassed. “The land _is_ touched by the Gods,” she repeated.

“I’m going to assume that means that there _is_ something to those stories that you’re probably not going to tell me.”

“I can’t tell you everything,” Sheree admitted, holding up a hand to stop Jim from interrupting. “What I can tell you is this – the valley has its own magic. As I said before, you will be provided with everything that you will need for the next six months. Nothing there will intentionally harm you.”

“But it could unintentionally harm me?” Jim added, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

The high priestess gave him a sharp look. “There are no guarantees, not even when the Gods are involved. If you do something foolish, then, yes, it is possible for you to be injured, but nothing in the valley will _try_ to harm you.”

Jim understood the logic in her words, but thought it sounded too much like a loophole for him to feel comfortable with the situation. Nothing would try to hurt him, but he still could get hurt, maybe even killed. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“You won’t be the only person in the valley. There is another person living there.”

“I have a roommate,” Jim muttered. “Great. I hope he doesn’t snore.”

Sheree ignored his flippant words, barely acknowledging them with more than a slight frown. “He is another that the Gods have taken an interest in, though for a different reason than the one that brought you to their attention. He was in a –” Sheree paused, seeming to struggle to find the correct words. “- precarious state when the Gods intervened. They have helped him as best they could, but now another influence is needed. The Gods believe that _you_ are the one to finish their work.”

“If the Gods have decided I’m supposed to help this guy, shouldn’t they be more certain of my success?”

“You still have free will, Mr. Kirk. At any time during the next six months, you may refuse the path that has been offered to you.”

“And what happens to the person that you said needed my help?”

“He will have to wait until the Gods’ favor touches someone else,” Sheree answered simply, though there was something in her tone that left him uneasy.

Jim studied the woman sitting across from him, noticing the faint tremor of her hands as she picked up a twig and twisted it between her fingers, the way she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “That’s what the high priestess thinks, but what does Sheree think?” She began to speak, but he ignored her protests. “I’ve had enough command experience to know that there’s a difference between the thoughts of a leader and the thoughts of the person making leadership decisions.”

She startled a bit at that, dropping the stick as she gaped at him. Jim shrugged, used to people underestimating how perceptive he could be. “That ship that left without me - I’m going to be her captain someday. As soon as I enlisted, Pike started drilling into me how important it is for a leader to separate himself from his emotions. I figure the same must be true for a high priestess.”

For a couple of seconds, he thought she would brush aside his observations and ignore his question, but then she slowly answered, her voice as soft as the shadows that drifted around them. “I believe that you are the one who can save him, Jim. I think that you might be his last chance and –” She shook her head, eyes downcast. “I’m supposed to find the person to help him, but I keep failing.”

“You think that I’m the one you were meant to find?”

“I truly do.” Sheree glanced up, smiling wryly. “You’re the first that I’ve tested that had such clear visions, and, from what your captain has said, you don’t give up easily. I think that the odds are in your favor, though both of you and your ‘roommate’ as you described him, will have to put in an effort for your task to be completed.”

He watched Sheree carefully, wondering if she was truly answering as herself or if she was manipulating him as the high priestess. If she’d spoken to Pike, then she could have learned that offering Jim a challenge would be the easiest away to coerce him into agreeing, but if there _was_ someone that needed his help. . . If those visions really were an indication that he could help whomever it was that Sheree kept referring to . . .

Dammit, he wished he could remember those visions. He’d spent the past few days trying everything he could think of to try to bring those memories into focus, but he could only remember red flower petals and grief-glazed hazel eyes.

Those eyes – if they belonged to whoever Sheree wanted him to help, then he really didn’t have a choice. He’d never forgive himself if he turned away from someone who was in that much pain.

He tipped his head back, staring at the canopy of branches above him, trying to make sense of what Sheree had told him. “The Gods have chosen others to do this?”

Sheree nodded. “None of them succeeded. It’s been so long that the Elders and I began to think that there was no one on Rosa that would be able to help him again find his proper path.” She smiled wryly. “Perhaps we were correct.”

Jim couldn’t think of any answer to that so he remained silent, waiting for Sheree to decide it was time to return to the trail. Eventually, she stood, brushing off the seat of her trousers as she walked to her _k’tar_. She fiddled with the bridle, checking the straps before looking over her shoulder. “We can turn back if you wish. If you decide not to do this, we will still honor the treaty. We only requested that you stay on Rosa. The rest is your choice.”

Jim turned over her words carefully, considering them and the situation he had somehow found himself in as closely has he had the coding for the _Kabayashi Maru_. “From the sounds of it, I’m the last chance this guy has.”

“I cannot say, Jim. That is something only the Gods can decide.”

No, not just the Gods; It was up to Jim to decide whether they continued on. If he was the egomaniac so many people claimed him to be, he’d find that sort of power intoxicating. Instead it weighed down his chest, making it hard to breath, hard to speak. Pushing off the ground, he braced himself against the tree, knowing what he had to do and disliking the choice as much as he had the night of the ritual. “We keep going.”

Sheree did not comment on his decision. She didn’t need to. The radiant smile she gave him as she handed him the reins of his _k’tar_ was answer enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

They rode for another hour before Sheree pulled her _k’tar_ to a halt, turning in her saddle, her expression grave. “We’re almost there. The first sight of the valley can be surprising so I thought it best to warn you.”

He tried to look beyond the small, rolling hill, but could see nothing more than trees, bracken, and the pale dust that made up the trail. When he turned back to Sheree, she was watching him thoughtfully, as if waiting for him to speak. He remained silent, knowing that any response he gave would sound sarcastic or offensive. After waiting a few moments longer, she urged her _k’tar_ forward, leading him up the shallow rise to whatever ‘surprise’ was awaiting him.

The forest thinned to meadowland, the pale road cutting through waving grass to a set of shining metal gates attached to a high wall that stretched to the right and left until it blurred into the distance. Pale pink flowers flowed over the smooth surface, almost obscuring the smoothly polished white stone.

Through the gates, he could see deep lush green interrupted by a patchwork of colors that Jim assumed were gardens of some sort. In the center of all that riotous color, a cool grey monolith stretched toward the sky.

Jim blinked, shaking his head as he realized that the mass of stone wasn’t some sort of natural rock formation. It was a castle complete with turrets, curtain wall, and other structures that he couldn’t readily name.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to find once he arrived at the sacred site. Most of the time he’d avoided thinking about the valley Sheree had referred to, but when he’d allowed himself to consider his new ‘home,’ he’d assumed that he’d be living in some rough camp or a simple temple with only a few amenities.

Even if he’d let his imagination run to its limits, he would never have considered that he would be staying in a palace that looked like an artist’s rendition of one of the castles found in Earth’s Europe. But there it was; the impossible waiting for him in the middle of a valley that was supposed to be blessed by the Gods.

“That’s not – how can –” Jim stuttered, staring up at the structure looming over them.

“Magic,” Sheree answered simply, sounding faintly amused, as if that one word was answer enough. Perhaps it was.

The high priestess remained silent while Jim processed the sight in front of him. He tried to gather his thoughts, but found them elusive, slipping from his grasp before they could form completely. Trying to shake off his shock, he turned to Sheree, unsettled by the patient hope he found in her expression.

“This is as far as I can go,” Sheree announced with a gentle smile,. “The rest of your journey, and whatever happens next, you must face alone.”

“But I’m not going to be alone,” Jim corrected, forcing his gaze away from the castle, remembering their discussion in the clearing. “I’m going to be living with someone else.” He shook his head, chuckling nervously. “Shouldn’t I know something about him before I meet him?”

“Yes you should,” she agreed sheepishly. “I was going to tell you earlier, but I wasn’t certain that you would venture this far.”

“The others haven’t?”

“Some never even made it halfway, while a few took one look at the valley and then demanded to return.”

“I made a promise, Sheree. I don’t break them unless I’m forced to.”

“Honor shouldn’t be the only reason you’re doing this, Mr. Kirk,” she chided gently.

“It’s not,” Jim admitted, “But it is one of the reasons.”

Sheree seemed to find his answer acceptable, glancing toward the gates before returning her attention to him. “Your – um – roommate is different than most of the people on Rosa. He is a sentient being, humanoid but not human-looking. The others that have come here have thought of him as a monster.”

That had been something he’d observed about the people of Rosa and their culture. Though they were part of the Federation, they lacked contact with non-human species. Even Spock, who looked human except for his pointed ears, had been seen as an exotic being and was treated with both diffidence and fascination. Jim wasn’t sure if that bias would cause the reaction the others the Gods had chosen had had when meeting with the mysterious being, but it couldn’t have aided the situation.

“I have had contact with other sentient species,” Jim comment dryly.

“Yes, of course you have.” She cleared her throat, blushing slightly. It was a strange reaction for the normally composed high priestess.

“Is there something else other than his appearance that has made the others leave?”

“Um, yes. He can be . . . disagreeable.”

“Disagreeable,” Jim echoed. “Disagreeable how?”

“He is troubled, prone to fits of temper and melancholy. He is not as accepting of the Gods’ influence as you have been.” She turned, her eyes pleading. “He’s been alone for a long time. Please, Jim, be patient with him.”

He wanted to ask Sheree to be more specific, to give him some sort of frame of reference for ‘a long time,’ but he was afraid of the answer Sheree might give him. “I’m not known for my patience,” Jim complained instead.

“I think that what you lack in patience you’ll make up for with your compassion.” Sheree chuckled, but ignored him when he muttered “I’m not known for that either,” continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. “The Gods chose you for a reason. No matter how difficult things might seem, remember that.”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all anyone, including the Gods, can ask of you.”

Jim stared through the gate at the castle that should not exist, considering the high priestess’ words and the mysterious person that she had only identified as ‘he.’ “Doesn’t he have a name?”

“None that anyone remembers.”

His earlier question about how long his host had been in the valley came to mind and his earlier fears of what Sheree’s answer might be. Six months away from the _Enterprise_ seemed like forever. How long had this other person who had been chosen by the Gods been forced to remain in the valley?

Swallowing hard, Jim reminded himself that Pike and the rest of the crew would come back. He wouldn’t be stuck in the castle or on Rosa forever. His situation was temporary.

He pushed away thoughts that would lead him toward panic, trying to decide if there was any more information that he needed before entering the valley. Then, he realized that even if he did ask Sheree for more detail on the coming months, his requests would most likely be ignored or brushed away with comments about Gods and their magic.

“Guess it’s time to get this over with,” Jim sighed, dismounting and pulling his duffle free. Sheree watched him as he slung the pack onto his shoulder. He forced a bright grin as he offered her the reins of his _k’tar_. “Any last words of advice?”

“Only what I’ve already told you: be patient; remember that nothing in this valley will harm you, and that you were chosen for a reason.” She brushed her fingers against his, lingering for a moment before she tightening them around the braided leather straps. “Though it doesn’t count as advice, I will wish you both good luck.”

Jim nodded his thanks, stepping away from the high priestess and the _k’tars_ as she turned the animals toward the forest. She looked over her shoulder at him, her expression thoughtful despite her hopeful smile, and then urged her mount forward.

He stood in the shadow of the pale wall, ignoring the gates, the castle, and his own wary thought until Sheree disappeared into the soft, green-shaded twilight and the last furtive motions of her passage faded to stillness. Reluctantly, he turned away from the road, squaring his shoulders as he facing the gates and the valley that waited beyond.

There was something familiar about all of this. As he stared through the ornate bars at the castle that should _not_ be there, a quiet, insistent memory drifted through his consciousness, but every time he tried to focus on it, it became more elusive. He reached out, his fingers barely brushing the cool metal before the ornate panels swung quietly open. “Okay, that was kinda weird,” Jim muttered, trying to fill the silence with more than just the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. He bolted through the opening, half-expecting the gates to crash closed with him crushed between them.

Spinning around, he waited for the gates to move again, but they remained resolutely open. Knowing he was only delaying the inevitable, he headed toward the castle, ignoring the soft click of metal against metal when the panels finally did swing shut behind him.

The path was edged with a tumble of brilliant flowers and sweet-smelling herbs, some of which he recognized from visits to his grandmother’s garden when he was a boy. Others he assumed were plants native to Rosa. He wondered about the plants that looked so similar to varieties from Earth, but pushed away those thoughts for later consideration.

The path split off occasionally into languid curves that led deeper into the gardens. Jim ignored the temptation to take one of those turns and delay his meeting with the being that he would be sharing his exile with. He forced himself to walk faster, past the beautiful distractions offered to him, slowing only when he reached the heavy, stone stairs that led up to the castle’s massive doors, awed by the fantastic structure that simply shouldn’t exist.

The architecture was a strange cross between that of medieval castles and the more luxurious palaces of later centuries. As he took in the turrets and gargoyles and sun-polished stained glass windows, he was reminded of a quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that Spock was fond of.

“ _Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth,_ ” Jim whispered. The castle should not exist, not on an isolated world like Rosa whose people exhibited little interest in recreating Terran history, yet it did exist. No matter how confusing and confounding, it might be, the improbable was in front of him.

Hitching his duffle higher onto his shoulder, he climbed the wide, stone treads, ignoring his own attempts at justifying the existence of improbable castles. It didn’t matter if there was no reason for the structure to be on Rosa. It was there and he’d be living in it for the next six months.

As he neared the heavy, carved doors they swung open in the same silent manner as the gates. He stepped through the doorway more slowly than his earlier rush into the gardens, more concerned about what could be waiting for him in the soft darkness in front of him than the doors attacking him from behind.

He entered what he assumed was a hall of some sort, light sparking around him in the form of dozens of candles set in ornately carved niches. Stepping farther into the cavernous space, he searched for some sign of life, unnerved as more candles flickered alight, illuminating a path that led toward a staircase.

Just to be contrary, he turned toward a door near the foot of the stairs, jiggling the handle and shoving against the wood, but it remained firmly shut. Realizing that he had no option but to follow his strange, insubstantial guide he climbed to the second floor landing then took a dizzying number of turns and down endless hallways before he found himself standing in front of a door set with a polished bronze-colored plaque with his name etched in somber, careful letters.

The door didn’t react to his presence, but when he slowly twisted the latch, it swung open to reveal a bedroom that was easily three times the size of his quarters on the _Enterprise_ and decorated in the same conflicting styles that he’d observed while being led through the castle. Ignoring the finery around him, he moved to the bed and placed his duffle on the long, low trunk that sat at its foot. He lingered long enough to change into a clean uniform, though his rank meant little in this place, before exiting the room

He slowly spun around in the hallway, trying to find some sign of which direction would lead to whoever lived in the castle. The dark corridor was frustratingly unhelpful, decorated with paintings, tapestries, and pieces of furniture that he barely recognized, nothing offering any clue to whether he should turn left or right. Unable to think of any other method of finding his way and feeling like a fool, he announced aloud, “I want to see whoever it is that lives here. The person the high priestess told me about.”

There was a moment of cautious silence before a candle to his left flickered, casting a pale ellipse of light that was quickly succeeded by another farther down the hall. He followed the glowing trail to a staircase, and then began to climb what seemed to be an interminable number of steps to stop before a partially open door.

Swallowing hard, he forced down the anxiety that was trying to close off his throat and knocked on the doorframe. Time seemed to slow as he waited for someone to answer, but after counting out five minutes without anyone calling out, Jim carefully pushed open the door.

The room was a library or study of some sort; the walls lined with shelves filled with bound books, a heavy desk and matching chair sitting beside a fireplace. There was no source of light save for one small lantern that sat on a small table near the door and a few, high windows that caught the afternoon sun.

Jim crept toward the center of the room, searching for some sign of life. Licking his lips nervously, he again studied his surroundings before announcing his intentions. “Hello? I’m looking for the person that lives here.”

A faint hint of movement came from the unnaturally dark shadows near the desk. His gaze had glided too easily over what he had assumed was the unoccupied chair. He didn’t repeat his mistake, squinting into the gloom, making out the outline of something - no _someone_ \- hidden against the high-winged back.

Slowly, he stepped closer. “I’m James Tiberius Kirk, first officer on the _U.S.S. Enterprise_. I was sent here –” He paused, realizing that he really had no real way of explaining why he was at the castle without sounding like a lunatic. “Well, I’m not really sure why I’m here.” Another set of cautious steps forward allowed him to take in a few more details of the person that sat in the chair, but did not give any true context to understand what he saw. Vaguely human, but far too tall, too massive, to be a man.

“You’re not welcome here, Mr. Kirk,” a deep, growling voice warned.

The sound rolled through the room like an ocean wave, nearly stealing his breath when the weight of it collided with his chest. Jim staggered back, primal instincts rioting through his mind before his more favored of the fight or flight reaction kicked in. His hands curled into fists, though he hid them behind his back, as he smirked at whoever was sitting behind the desk. “A lot of people have told me that. I usually ignore them.”

It was a stupid, arrogant thing to say, thrown out in a tone that had instigated more barroom brawls than Jim could remember. He half-expected the being in front of him to stand, close the distance that separated them, and take a swing at him. Instead, he heard a faint mutter of “cocky bastard,” that caused his smirk to widen to a grin. “A high priestess named Sheree brought me. She said something about you needing to see a new face around here.”

“I don’t need or want visitors. Leave. Now.” The voice was softer, though just as insistent, a warning that Jim again ignored.

“I’m sorry that you don’t want me around, but I promised Sheree I’d stay here six months and I hate disappointing a lady.”

A sigh of frustrated patience came from the figure in the shadow-wrapped chair. “I’m sure that you’re not here because you want to be. This Sheree found some way to coerce you into staying. Probably some bullshit about your Gods wanting you to be here.”

“Something like that,” Jim admitted. “But they’re not my Gods. I don’t even live on this planet.”

“And they still found a way to con you into agreeing.” There was a faint motion within the shadows as his reluctant host shook his head in disgust. “Let me give you some advice, kid. Get away from here as fast as you can before those Gods notice you. Better yet, get off the whole damned planet before they fuck up your life like they did mine.”

Jim knew he shouldn’t ask. Every one of those ignored instincts warned him against it, but he’d rarely been able to keep his mouth shut, even when silence was the most intelligent and safest option. “What’d they do to you?”

His host didn’t answer immediately; an uncomfortable quiet settling between them that seemed cloying, suffocating. Finally, when he did answer, that thunderous voice was broken, words grating against each other like stone grinding against stone. “Their Gods took everything from me. Stripped me of everything that was mine right down to my bones.”

The room - no the whole world – seemed to grow still as Jim processed his host’s confession. He remembered all of Sheree’s reassurances that her Gods were benign, that no harm would come to him. He tried to resolve the contradictions between her words and his host’s and found no way to align the two views into a whole.

His host had to have done something wrong. There had to be a reason for the punishment that he’d spoken of, but in a rare moment of self-preservation, Jim found he was unable to voice those tactless questions.

He licked his lower lip nervously as he struggled to think of something to say. “Look, I’m sorry about whatever happened to you. I know that doesn’t change anything, but I am sorry. None of this changes the fact that I made a promise and I intend to keep it."

The shadows shifted though they still cloaked his host in thick darkness, only allowing Jim to see a frustrating pattern of movement that might have been the being bracing his hands on the arms of the chair. “Listen up, Mr. Kirk, I don’t want you here. Get out.”

The warning was obvious; the tone a variation of that predatory growl that had set Jim’s instincts hopping. His nerves twitched, adrenaline burning through his muscles, spurring him to retreat. Jim forced himself to stand straighter, squaring his shoulders as he answered simply. “No.”

His host seemed taken aback by Jim’s defiance, letting out a rumble of frustration before standing and stepped away from the desk.

Jim had traveled to dozens of different planets, met beings that even in his most imaginative days of childhood he would not have believed existed, yet his mind recoiled when he looked upon the being in front of him.

His host loomed over him; a monster from ancient folklore clothed in the trappings of civilization. He was almost wolfish in appearance except that his fur was thick, dark brown instead of gray, with sharply pointed ears and a long muzzle that was filled with fangs. He was easily over two and a half meters tall with massive shoulders to match his unnerving height. Fingers – or would they be toes since they were attached to paws instead of hands? – flexed, thick curved claws shining dully in the lamp light, reminding Jim of the dagger that had been on Sheree’s alter.

He knew that he should step back, move away from the massive, furious being in front of him, but either courage or sheer stupidity held him frozen, staring into dark eyes.

Belatedly, Jim realized that it was the being’s eyes that had ensnared him, stealing away his ability to move. They conveyed such a sense of profound loneliness that it actually frightened him as he tried to comprehend what would cause such desolation. No living being, whether man or beast, should have to suffer though such haunting isolation.

“I want you to leave,” the monster – the beast – his host - whispered, a low rasp that was both a warning and a plea.

“I can’t,” Jim murmured, not realizing the words were true until he had spoken them aloud. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

His host straightened, a force of nature barely contained. For a second, Jim thought the being would lash out at him, preparing himself for some punishing blow. The being caught him by surprise, spinning away from Jim with a speed that was astounding considering his host’s size, before storming out of the room.

Jim turned, staring at the open door long after his unwilling host had disappeared from sight. Eventually, he exited the library, following the flickering trail of candlelight back to his quarters. He found himself searching the shadows and darkened corners half-expecting something – someone – to leap out and attack him.

A meal had been set out for him on a small table that sat beside one of the tall, arched windows. He ate because it was necessary, thoughts of his confrontation with his unwilling host dulling his appetite, though not his appreciation of the long, hot shower he took afterward. He stayed under the water for far longer than was necessary to wash the dust from the day’s ride from his skin, enjoying the simple yet rare luxury of taking a real shower.

Reluctantly, he turned off the water, toweled himself off, and dressed in briefs and a pair of sleeping pants rummaged from his duffle. He padded across the thick carpet, lacking the energy to study his surroundings other than in a cursory way to ensure there was no one else in the room, and stretched out in the canopied bed. Settling back against the pillows, his thoughts finally slowed enough to allow him to relax. Just as sleep overwhelmed him, Jim realized he’d never asked for his host’s name.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

He spent the first week of his exile wandering the castle and its grounds trying to grasp the layout and topography of his new residence. It was a difficult, frustrating process. The magic that maintained the place seemed to take some perverse enjoyment in skewing his sense of direction so he could never really learn his way through the twisting halls.

Eventually, he realized that if he announced his destination aloud like he had the day he had arrived at the castle, he would find his way with only a few wrong turns. If he became truly lost, candles would light themselves and doors would swing open to lead him back to his room.

During those early days of acclimation, he spent the majority of his time outdoors, finding it easier to accept the improbability of his situation when he wasn’t constantly confronting the new reality that had been forced upon him. The meticulously organized gardens were among the few aspects of the castle and the valley that surrounded it that seemed unchanged by the magic around him. The gardens also possessed a sort of familiarity for him. He spent hours among the plants, fascinated by those that looked so similar to the ones his grandmother had loved, wondering how Terran herbs and flowers had been woven into the magic of a planet with only tenuous connections to Earth. Yet, there they were - rosemary and mint, pansies and forget-me-nots, along with dozens of others whose names he had forgotten.

They were all beautiful, as was everything he’d found in the castle and its grounds, but it was the roses that drew him whenever the strangeness around him threatened to overwhelm his sanity. The roses shouldn’t have affected him so much, but they were a reminder of his few good memories of Iowa, a quiet comfort that he hadn’t even realized he’d needed until he’d found his way into a section of the garden devoted only to roses and the plants that edged their carefully tended beds.

He never saw his reluctant host, but occasionally during his wanderings he’d notice a hint of motion teasing the edges of his vision or hear a faint footfall. Sometimes the shadows seemed thicker, as dense as those surrounding the desk in the study where he’d met his host, causing Jim’s thoughts to stray toward the being who had claimed to have lost everything to Rosa’s Gods.

Stripped of everything, right down to his bones, the being had said. The accusation went against all of Sheree’s reassurances that her Gods were benign, but Jim couldn’t doubt his host’s words, not after seeing the terrifying loneliness and pain in the being’s eyes. He found it impossible to ignore the feeling that there was something familiar about his host and the entire surreal situation. Every time he tried to focus on that curious sense of knowing, his thoughts grew hazy, distant, and a pulsing ache stretched from one temple to the other, distracting him from whatever it was he was trying to remember.

He didn’t speak to the being that cautiously observed him, deciding to let his reluctant host accept Jim’s presence before trying to initiate any sort of contact. At least, that had been his early intentions when he'd first noticed his host’s interest. His resolve faltered halfway through the second week, the solitude wearing down his resistance with an uneasiness that Jim hadn’t expected.

The last time he’d lived in any sort of isolation was on back on the farm, but even then, he hadn’t been far from town and he’d attended school most of the year. On the _Enterprise_ he’d been part of a small but tightly knit community that was always in motion. During any shift, he could walk the halls or visit one of the public areas and be surrounded by people. It was something he had always taken for granted, until now when he found himself completely alone in a place not of his choosing.

Most of the time he could pretend it didn’t bother him, keeping his mind occupied with other activities, but at mealtimes, he felt the isolation keenly. He was used to dining with his fellow officers or with the crewmembers that had been in his classes at the Academy. The few times that he’d eaten alone had been because he chose not to seek out company, not because there was none to find.

Finally, the silence became too oppressive, pressing against his ears until he began speaking aloud just to prove that he hadn’t been struck deaf. “Great, now I’m going crazy,” he muttered. No, he wasn’t crazy, not yet, but if he didn’t find better company than himself and whatever force maintained the castle and its grounds, he soon would be. Realizing that he’d rather risk his host’s anger than the possibility of losing his sanity, he shouted into the quiet of the great hall, “I want to see Bones!”

The candles near him wavered, their slender flames shivering in a non-existent breeze, just as surprised by his outburst as he was and leaving him to wonder when exactly he had labeled the other being as Bones in his mind.

Ignoring the curious turn of his thoughts, Jim focused on the candelabra that sat on a frivolous table to the right of the tall double doors. “There’s only one other person that I know of that lives here. Show me where he is!”

Responding to his command with an almost indignant flicker, a line of candle flame sprang to life, directing him down a long corridor that he couldn’t remember but knew he should have passed through during his week of exploring. When he finally reached the correct room, the door swung open before he could even consider knocking.

A low growl greeted him as he walked into the room, though this time it lacked the primeval edge that he had reacted so strongly to before. He found himself in another library, one far larger than the one where he’d first met Bones. His host was sitting at a long, high table covered in very modern looking folders and notebooks that kept company with a cut crystal decanter and matching tumbler that were filled with amber liquid. Jim stared first at the pads of paper then Bones’s massive paws, wondering how the being managed to write.

“I thought I told you to leave,” Bones grumbled, looking up from whatever he’d been reading to glare at Jim.

“You did, but I have problems following orders.”

“I thought being a first officer would mean that you had to take orders from someone.”

“I take orders from my CO just fine,” Jim shrugged. “Well, most of the time I do, but last time I checked, you’re not Captain Pike so I’ll assume your orders are more like suggestions.”

Bones scowled at him, causing Jim to notice the lighter shading of the fur around the being’s eyes. The marks looked and moved like a human’s eyebrows, giving Jim clues to Bones’s expressions that he couldn’t quite pick up by watching his other features.

“How about I suggest that you leave me the hell alone?” Bones asked in a tone that Jim assumed was meant to be polite but sounded more like the being was fantasizing about throwing Jim out of room.

“Not going to happen. You see, Bones, I’ve got a problem.”

Bones blinked at him, jaw hanging open slightly, showing a disquieting display of very pointed fangs. “What did you call me?”

“Bones,” Jim answered, flushing slightly, suddenly feeling foolish. “You never told me your name, so I started referring to you that way in my thoughts. I assume you have another name.”

His host – Bones – didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, though eventually he nodded. “Yeah, I do, but not one that I want to hear.”

“Then I’ll keep calling you Bones. If you don’t mind.”

Bones looked away, staring down at the paper that rested between his heavy, furred paws. “No, I don’t mind.”

Jim grinned at the admission, though quickly schooled his features into something more respectful when Bones lifted his head. “Is there a reason why you ignored my – suggestion?”

“Yeah there is.” Jim moved to the table and sitting down in a chair across from Bones, ignoring the glower the action earned him. “I’ve started talking to myself.”

“I talk to myself all the time.”

“Yeah, but I’ve also started answering. I think it’s a sign that I’m going crazy.”

One of Bones’s eyebrows crept upward, suggesting that he was already certain of the state of Jim’s sanity. “And how exactly does this affect me?”

“I thought maybe we could start having dinner together.”

Bones’s paw flexed, claws digging into the polished wood in a reaction that Jim was sure was involuntary. “What?”

“Dinner. You. Me. Together.” It had been one of the wild, random thoughts that had entered his mind about the same time he’d realized that he had begun thinking of his host as Bones.

“You’ve got nerve, kid. I’ll give you that.” Bones gave him a look that held a faint amusement before tapping his muzzle lightly with the point of a claw. “You might not have realized it, but my table manners leave a lot to be desired. I wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities.”

Jim chuckled. “I don’t think you could do that, even if I had any sensibilities to offend.” He gestured to the crystal tumbler near Bones’s hand. “How about I eat, you drink.”

Bones’s lips quirked in an expression that what was a curious fusion of a snarl and a smirk. “That I can manage.”

“Does that mean I’ll see you at dinner tonight?” He kept his voice neutral, unwilling to seem too eager.

“If I say no, you’ll just continue to annoy me until I agree.”

“Pretty much,” Jim admitted, carefully fighting back a grin.

“Doesn’t look like I have much choice then,” Bones grumbled, though when he leaned back against his chair, he looking uncertain, almost dazed. “Yeah. Tonight.” He blinked and shook his head, causing the ruff that ran along his jaw to stand on end. “Now get out of here so I can get some work done.”

Jim wanted to ask what Bones was working on, but decided to save that conversation for dinner. He’d already won one victory against Bones’s taciturn nature. It was best not to push his luck further.

Anyway, he had six months to learn about his no-longer-so reluctant host.

Jim stood beside the fireplace that dominated the too-large dining room, mentally berating himself for his impulsiveness as he stared into the shifting flames. He shouldn’t have made the offer. During their first meeting, Bones had made it obvious that he didn’t want another person living in the castle with him. He doubted that a week of following Jim around the castle – if those teasing glimpses of motion had actually been more than just a product of his overactive imagination – had changed Bones’s opinion.

He had been a fool to let his impetuousness and loneliness to get the better of him.

Sighing, he turned away from the fire, ignoring the table laden with covered dishes, ready to return to his room before he again gave into his recklessness and did something else to offend his host.

He froze, transfixed when he caught sight of a figure wrapped in shadows and heavy, dark cloth watching him from the doorway. Light reflected off eyes that glowed golden in the darkness. _A monster_ some primitive part of his brain warned, an inaudible whisper that shivered down his spine.

When Bones moved from the hall into the dining room, it took all of Jim’s willpower to remain where he was, to not flinch away the powerful being that was making his way toward him. Bones stopped a meter from him, though still close enough to swipe at him with those keenly pointed claws if he wanted.

Jim found himself tipping his head back to look into his host’s eyes, a faint tremor working its way through him as instinct informed him that he was baring his throat to a being that was built to be a predator. “I didn’t think you’d show up,” Jim said, pushing aside those thoughts, reminding himself that if Bones had wanted to hurt him, he would have found a way to do so days ago.

Bones cocked an ear forward, eyebrows swooping down toward his muzzle as he studied Jim thoughtfully. “I figured if I didn’t, you’d just hunt me down and drag me in here.” His voice was low, almost cautious, a faint hint of a drawl softening his complaint. “And you’re not the only one here that keeps his promises,”

Jim felt himself flush, but forced himself not to look away from Bones. “I didn’t mean to imply –”

“I know, kid. I admit that I’m not the most pleasant company, but I’m not offended that easily.”

He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath as he’d waited for a completely different reaction from Bones until he sighed, the tension draining from him with that grateful exhalation. “That’s good to know.”

And it was. After that first rush of fear and embarrassment, Jim found that the primeval voice that had attempted to dominate his thoughts whenever he was near Bones was quieting. It wasn’t quite silent, but it was fading, muted as he spent more time with Bones without the being acting like the predator that he appeared to be.

Dinner was an awkward jumble of words spoken too quickly followed by nervous silences, but, as the meal progressed, it became easier to adjust to Bones’s presence. His host ate nothing, just as he had claimed when he had accepted Jim’s invitation, but he did drink the same amber liquid that Jim had noticed in the library. He suspected that it was some sort of liquor, though Bones never showed even a hint of becoming intoxicated from the contents of his glass.

Jim fought the conflicting urges to hurry through the meal so he could be away from the being beside him and to linger so that he could enjoy the luxury of having someone near. He found himself glancing at Bones more and more often, though he tried to time his furtive observations so that they appeared to be a natural extension of their attempts at conversation.

He knew he’d failed when Bones’s lips pulled back in an expression that _might_ have been an amused smile. “Go ahead and stare, kid.”

Again, Jim felt himself flush, cursing himself and the tact that had seemed to have deserted him the moment he had stepped through the castle gates. Despite Uhura’s teasing claims that he was a redneck farm boy, he did have some semblance of manners. His mother might have been absent most of his life, but during those times that she had been on Earth, she’d made sure that her son knew how to function in polite society. His time in Starfleet had added the necessary polish to those manners so that he could interact with other sentient beings without doing something stupid and starting some sort of intergalactic incident. Somehow, when he was with Bones, those lessons vanished.

He began to apologize, but Bones held up a paw and shook his head. One eyebrow had moved upward, giving him a look that despite the strangeness of Bones’s features conveyed the message, ‘Don’t be an idiot.’

Jim rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at pale expanse of tablecloth near his plate, realizing that Bones was right and he was acting idiotic, before focusing on Bones as his host had requested. He allowed himself to take in the details that had blurred into nothing more than faint, adrenaline-tainted impressions of size and strength.

Those earlier impressions were correct. Bones was _huge_ , with broad shoulders that seemed meters wide beneath his heavy greatcoat. His paws were just as massive, square fingered and tipped with curving black claws, yet they seemed surprisingly dexterous despite their size.

Slowly, his gaze shifted upward, over the dark mane that emphasized a long muzzle to the mobile, pointed ears that swept forward as Jim finally met Bones’s eyes. The lighter shading of the fur around his eyes reminded him of a wolf, contrasting sharply with Bones’s nearly-black fur and his hazel eyes.

He remembered the pain he’d seen in Bones’s eyes during their first meeting and was relieved to find that, though still obvious, it was muted, tempered by some emotion that Jim could not identify. They’d seemed almost black during that tense confrontation. Now they were a more natural color, brown flecked with green, though the light from the fire occasionally caused them to spark amber like a cat’s.

“Got it all out of your system?” Bones asked, the words spoken in a low growl that sounded faintly amused.

“Yeah, I think so,” Jim decided, chuckling softly as he sat back in his chair.

“Good. Now that we’ve got that over with, why don’t you tell me about this _Enterprise_ of yours?”

Picking up his fork, Jim began describing his ship and her crew and answering Bones’s questions as he finished his meal. Their earlier fractured attempts at conversation smoothed into an easy dialogue that lasted well after Jim had set his plate aside and Bones had finished the last of his drink. They talked late into the night, their conversation reluctantly ending when Bones let out a yawn that displayed a staggering number of pointed teeth and claimed that he was too tired to continue.

Jim waited for Bones to stand, and then he asked, “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

His host looked down at him, head tipped to one side as he studied Jim thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess so,” he sighed, seeming puzzled by both Jim and his own answer.

Jim nodded and followed Bones out of the dining room, not bothering to analyze his own, confused reaction to his host’s words as he turned toward the helpful trail of candlelight waiting to guide him back to his quarters.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It was raining.

Jim stood beside one of the library windows, watching the pattern of droplets sliding down glass with a fascination that was almost embarrassing. He hadn’t been in space long enough to be so fixated on changes in the weather, but after one nearly-perfect day of sunshine after another, seeing rain was almost unnerving.

“Staring at the clouds won’t make ‘em go away,” Bones commented dryly from the open doorway.

“The barn cats on the farm used to think it would,” Jim laughed, turning away from the window to watch Bones cross the library. He was getting used to the being’s nearly silent movements, but it still amazed him that someone as large as Bones could be so graceful.

“They didn’t know any better,” Bones pointed out with a faint smirk. “You do.”

“I know.” Jim shook his head, trying to clear away his strange mood. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I was beginning to think that it wasn’t allowed to rain here.”

Bones crossed his arms over his chest as he stared out across the gardens. “The magic manages to keep the valley temperate but occasionally rain is needed.” He shrugged idly, though his voice held the slight tension Jim had noticed whenever Bones talked about the enchantment that surrounded them. “It even snows sometimes.”

Jim gave him a speculative look, ignoring questions that he knew Bones would not answer to ask, “How much snow?”

“A few inches. Sometimes a foot.”

Jim let out a snort. “I grew up in Iowa, remember? That’s nothing compared to what I’m used to.”

“Just thought I’d warn you, kid. If rain thrills you this much, I’m afraid to see what snow will do to you.”

“Funny, Bones. Really funny,” Jim grumbled as he pretended to glare at the being. Bones arched an eyebrow at him, causing him to grin. “So why did you decide to visit me? I thought you’d be off doing whatever it is you do around here.” He’d been trying to figure out how Bones spent his days, but neither subtlety nor direct questioning had gotten Jim answers.

As expected, Bones ignored Jim’s latest attempt at satisfying his curiosity. “I thought the weather might be making you antsy.”

Jim glanced out the desk and the haphazardly organized books that were waiting for him and grimaced. “I could do some reading,” Jim admitted reluctantly. “But if you have a better suggestion . . .”

Bones gave him a mysterious look, smiling wryly. “Go put on some sweats and meet me on the second floor landing.”

It was an unexpected order, but one that Jim would willingly accept. It seemed like he’d studied more in the past few weeks than he had during his years at the Academy. He was getting bored spending his afternoons in the library with only books for company.

“Give me ten minutes.” He grinned, waiting for Bones to nod before heading his quarters. 

**# # #**

He only needed eight minutes to change, though Bones was already waiting for him, leaning against the railing, staring down at the hall below. Slowing, he watched his host, noting how Bones had to almost bend double to carefully brace his weight against the smoothly polished stone. He’d shed his greatcoat and was wearing a loose, white short-sleeved shirt and a pair of trousers that were ragged around the hem. One pointed ear twisted almost completely backward, tracking Jim’s movements before Bones turned.

“Ready?” he asked, gesturing for Jim to follow when he gave his assent.

Bones led him up two more flights of stairs that he recognized from his earlier explorations, and then paused in front of a pair of large, double doors that Jim had never been able to cajole into opening for him. Bones placed a paw against the carved wood and the doors parted, revealing a cavernous space.

The room was huge, larger than any of the auditoriums at the Academy, though it had the same balanced acoustics of those spaces. Jim stepped inside slowly, sneakers scuffing quietly against the only wooden floor he’d seen in the castle, tipping his head back to stare up at a ceiling that seemed to be at least two stories above him.

“Why’s the floor made of wood?” he asked when he finally dragged his gaze away from what he _thought_ might have been some sort of mythological scene painted on the smooth plaster above.

“It’s a ballroom.” Bones shrugged. “I assume that stone would be too slippery to dance on.”

A _ballroom?_ He gave Bones a questioning look that Bones barely acknowledged as the being dug through a box almost hidden beneath a bench near the doors. Jim gaped in surprise when Bones held up a bright orange ball.

“You turned the ballroom into a basketball court?”

Bones shrugged. “What else was I going to use it for?”

“I have no idea,” Jim chuckled and took the ball from Bones, running his fingers lightly over the textured surface. “How’d you get it?”

“I asked for it and it showed up the next morning,” Bones answered, glancing away quickly in that haunted way of his. “That’s how things work around here. You want something. You ask for it. And it shows up eventually. Things like food and clothes show up within a few minutes, an hour at the most. Something more unsual –”

“Like a basketball?” Jim interrupted, distracting Bones enough so that some of the shadows receded from his eyes.

“Yeah, like the basketball. They show up in a day or two. I – I mean we – can’t ask for really elaborate things and expect them to show up, but simple stuff like a couple of metal hoops and a ball – those will appear in a couple of days.”

Jim nodded, bouncing the ball a couple of times, listening to the sound reverberate though the space, and grinned. He tossed it at Bones and jogged farther into the room, glancing over his shoulder and gesturing impatiently. “Come on, Bones. Let’s play!”

Bones chuckled softly and followed him to the center of the ‘court.’

**# # #**

They spent the rest of the afternoon on their improvised court, making up the rules for their games as they went along. Each version became more outlandish than the other until neither one of them could remember what exactly had been decided only a few minutes before.

Bones’s grace didn’t translate as well into the game as it did during other activities. He could move swiftly on four feet and almost as quickly on two, but changing directions left him unsteady at times. He was hesitant to invade Jim’s personal space, keeping a careful distance until Jim slammed his shoulder into Bones’s side, snagging the ball away and making a basket before Bones registered what had happened.

After that, the game was more relaxed, though he knew Bones was holding back, keeping his ferocious strength in check. It annoyed Jim at first, then he let it go, deciding that it was better to enjoy the afternoon than to be angry over necessary allowances for physiological differences that neither one of them could change.

That acceptance didn’t stop him from being occasionally distracted by the being that shared the court with him, though it wasn’t until the final game of the afternoon that he learned the cost of his inattention. They were playing with simpler rules, more like the ones that Jim was used to, a game of one on one with only the added rule of ‘no touching the court with your hands’ to keep Bones from using that court-eating lope of his.

Jim grabbed the ball and ran for his hoop, Bones chasing after him, growling vague threats that Jim ignored. He didn’t even realize that Bones had caught up to him until he saw a dark blur and the ball was gone. He didn’t notice how close Bones had gotten until he felt fur brush against his chest accompanied by a sharp sting that, after a moment, felt warm and slick.

He stumbled to a halt, hand splayed against his chest, wetness seeping through his t-shirt to coat his palm. Slowly, Jim lifted his hand, staring at the blood that stained his fingers and the sharp lines cut into the cotton and into the muscle beneath. “Bones?”

The being turned, the game forgotten as his ears cocked sideways to pick up the surprise in Jim’s voice. Bones froze, eyes wide as he stared at Jim’s chest, muttering a rumbling “Dammit, Jim!” as he crossed the distance between them. “Don’t worry I’ll patch you up,” Bones promised before ordering Jim to put pressure against the wounds, and dragging him over to one of the benches lining the wall.

It didn’t hurt. Not really. He’d taken injuries during his childhood, and later, during his assignment on the _Enterprise_ , that had hurt worse. Though he knew that the lack of pain could be deceiving. The hot, throbbing sting could mean that the injury was minor or it was more serious than his first glance downward had indicated.

Jim eased down onto the bench and Bones muttered something in a language that seemed vaguely familiar to him. A plain black bag appeared next to him on the bench with neither a flourish nor a hint of sound. He managed to stifle a yelp, though he couldn’t stop himself from flinching away from the object that had almost landed in his lap, a motion that caused Bones to smile briefly as he knelt down in front of Jim.

“You’re going to have to help me, Jim.” Bones lifted his paws up, scowling as if he found them offensive. “I don’t have the dexterity to do this all by myself.”

“Is it that bad?” Jim asked, still having to look up at Bones though the differences in their height suddenly seemed less noticeable.

“Won’t know for sure until I check you out. Just don’t want to take any chances.” Bones carefully opened the bag, and Jim found himself watching those defined movements. He laid out a set of tools on the floor beside him, instruments that were old but Jim recognized from his visits to sick bay: gauze, antiseptic, tricorder, and dermal generator.

Bones reached for Jim’s wrist, and then hesitated. “I can tell you what to do so you can patch yourself up.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Jim asked, the words tumbling out before he had a chance to realize he’d thought them, let alone vocalized them. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Didn’t think you’d want me to touch you,” Bones rumbled, looking away as he picked up the tricorder

“Why?” Another word that was spoken too quickly, but one that he knew was necessary.

“Because I’m –” The being finished the sentence with a wide gesture made the _because of what I am_ obvious.

“Bones, I have no problem with someone that’s not human touching me.” To emphasize his point, he rested his free hand on Bones’s shoulder. The being startled back slightly, hazel eyes widening. “So why don’t you get to work?”

Bones nodded and began gently cleaning away the blood. “I need you to change the settings for human physiology.”

“How’d you get these?” Jim asked while following Bones’s instructions, hissing softly as Bones began examining the wounds, probing lightly with the smooth pads of his fingers. “And what language were you speaking earlier?”

“To call up the supplies?” Bones paused, and then picked up some gauze and began gently wiping away the blood, looking uncomfortable before he answered. “Latin.”

“Latin? Like Earth’s Latin?” Jim blinked, then handed Bones the tricorder when the being gestured impatiently. “How do you know Latin?”

“I thought I was making it obvious that I’m a doctor.” Bones answered dryly, glanced up from his work, the look in his eyes both a plea and a warning. There was something almost wistful in his voice as he added, “Or, more correctly, I was one before I came here. The kit was mine from before.”

Jim wanted to ask, ‘before what?’ then remembered their first meeting and Bones’s claim that the Gods had taken everything from him. He kept his questions to himself, unwilling to force those memories onto Bones. “I thought technology didn’t work here.”

“Most doesn’t, but for some reason, these do. I guess the Gods wanted to make sure I could take care of myself.” Bones looked up briefly before quietly adding, “And you.”

“The wounds aren’t deep,” he announced gruffly before Jim could respond to his admission, setting the tricorder on the bench and picked up the dermal generator. “They look worse than they are.” He handed the device to Jim, guiding him through the steps necessary to change the settings, before starting the careful process of sealing the wounds.

Bones worked quietly, running the device over the wounds and Jim found himself unwilling to break the silence between them. He ignored the annoying tingle and occasional jolt of pain that accompanied the healing process, focusing on Bones, startled when he realized how close they were.

He felt none of that instinctive fear that had dominated his first few weeks in the castle. He’d known that it was lessening, but hadn’t realized that it had completely vanished until he found himself a handful of centimeters away from Bones, his presence no more intimidating than any of the crewmembers of the _Enterprise_.

He would have smiled if Bones hadn’t looked so serious; glaring at the dermal generator so fiercely that Jim was surprised the thing didn’t self destruct from the onslaught. “Something wrong, Bones?”

“Nothing’s wrong. The wounds are clean-edged and will heal without any sort of infection. My claws might be similar to a cat’s but they don’t have the sorts of bacteria that felines pick up.”

“Do they retract like a cat’s too?” Jim ignored the child-like urge to ask Bones to show him if they did.

“Yeah. I can make them retract when I want, but sometimes, when I overextend my arms, they’ll slip out of their sheaths. I didn’t realize that it’d happened until you called out.” Bones looked away, scowling at the floor. “I’m sorry, Jim.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Bones didn’t seem convinced, shaking his head before asking, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“You should rephrase that to ‘Is there anything I’m not allergic to?’” Jim chuckled, smiling wryly. The medics on the _Enterprise_ had fits whenever he was sent to sick bay, constantly worrying that they were going to dose him up with something that would result in some unanticipated reaction.

“Then I won’t do anything else. I don’t want you having a reaction when we’re so far from proper medical care.” He shook his head, annoyance sliding into self-condemnation. “It’s going to scar, Jim.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jim shrugged easily, feeling only a slight tightness running along the newly healed skin. “I’ve got enough scars that a couple more won’t matter.”

“They do matter,” Bones rumbled, leaning back on his heels. “I shouldn’t have done this to you.”

“You didn’t _do_ anything to me! It was an accident.”

“One that shouldn’t have happened,” Bones countered, scowling harder as he stood and backed away from the bench. “It could have been a helluva lot worse, Jim.”

“But it wasn’t,” Jim reminded. He stood, crowding into Bones’s personal space until the being was forced to meet his eyes. “And I’m okay now and that’s all that matters, so quit acting like you tried to kill me or something. Next, you’ll be blaming yourself for the rain.”

“Yesterday, I was thinking that the gardens were looking a little dry.” The admission was accompanied by a faint smile, though he could still sense the doctor’s guilt from both Bones’s stance and the way he was trying distance himself from Jim.

“You’re truly evil,” Jim grinned, and clapped Bones on the shoulder, relieved when the being didn’t back away from the contact. “Come on, let’s get something to eat, and you can tell me what other evil plans you’ve got in the works.”

Bones looked like he wanted to protest, to give some excuse so that he could avoid their usual dinner together, but Jim kept up a steady stream of words as they walked to the dining room, distracting the doctor until Bones finally allowed himself to relax.

**# # #**

The next morning the sun had returned, though it lacked its usual intensity, casting the grounds in a misty, pale light that Jim thought was just about perfect for his plans. Throughout dinner, Bones had been distracted, his guilt over the accident forcing the usually vocal being to remain almost silent during the meal. As Jim had headed back to his room, he’d realized that if he didn’t do _something_ Bones would allow that guilt to distance himself from Jim until he was again nothing more than a phantom that watched Jim from the shadows.

Jim dressed quickly, pulling on the gold short-sleeved shirt that the enchantment had decided he’d needed since his t-shirt was ruined along with the rest of his workout clothes, grabbed the object that he’d requested the night before, and headed out of his quarters. He asked the candelabra across from his doorway where Bones was, wondering when it had become almost normal to ask for directions from the furniture.

He was led to Bones’s study without the usual confused rambling. Hiding his prize behind his back, he knocked on the door, not bothering to wait for an answer before walking in and heading for the desk where Bones was reading over one of his many notebooks. “Hey, Bones. You busy?”

Bones looked up, one eyebrow twitching upward in a response that Jim translated as, ‘Of course I am.' Tell me what you want and leave me alone.’ “Kind of,” Bones admitted dryly.

“Can it wait?”

Bones let out an exasperated sigh before closing his book. “I suppose so. Why?”

Jim held up the ball he’d been hiding behind his back and grinned. “I thought maybe you might want to play soccer.”

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” Bones asked, staring at him incredulously. “I know those scratches should be healed by now, but I thought that they would’ve taught you a lesson.”

“Like I said before, that was an accident,” Jim shrugged, balancing the ball on the tips of his fingers. “And that’s why I thought that soccer would be a good idea. Neither one of us can use our hands and the ground’s soft from all the rain yesterday.” He let his grin shift to a smirk. “Unless you’re afraid of getting mud in your fur.”

He didn’t really expect the ploy to work, but it did have the desired affect of annoying Bones into _considering_ the offer instead of focusing on what had happened the day before.

“You shouldn’t aggravate your injuries.” The protest lacked conviction and Jim knew that Bones’s resolve was wavering.

“They’re healed. You said so yourself. Though, if you wanna check –” He pulled at the hem of his shirt with his free hand. “You can.”

Bones looked away, eyes wide, his ears twitching in a way that Jim had never seen before. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that Bones was embarrassed. It was a strange reaction from a doctor, but he figured that there must be a difference between seeing someone half-naked while treating them versus having that person suddenly offering to strip down in the middle of the doctor’s study.

“So, do you want to play or not?” Jim asked, carefully keeping his tone light, knowing that he couldn’t acknowledge that embarrassment or he’d ruin any chance of having Bones say yes.

Bones sat back in his chair, tipping his head to one side, giving Jim a look that warned him that Bones knew he was being conned. He tensed slightly as he waited for the doctor to refuse. Then, a wolfish smile crept across Bones’s features. “Think you can handle the smell of wet fur, kid?”

“I’ll learn to live with it,” Jim grinned, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as Bones pushed back his chair and stood.

Bones moved around the desk to take the ball. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Sure you are,” Jim taunted before grabbing the ball out of Bones’s paws and sprinting for the door. “If you can keep up!”

“Dammit, Jim!” Bones laughed before giving chase.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

His life settled into a routine similar to the one he’d had at the Academy. He woke at dawn and ran laps around the paths that cut through the gardens before eating breakfast in his room. He spent the mornings studying subjects that he thought would assist him when he was promoted to captain. Most afternoons he would go search for Bones, with varying success, and manage to convince him that they should find some interesting distraction from their work. His evenings were always spent with Bones, eating his dinner while Bones slowly drank a glass of what smelled like – and tasted like as he’d later learned when he’d stolen the glass from Bones during a rare moment of inattention – bourbon, the two of them debating whatever subject came to mind.

He missed the _Enterprise_ and her crew, but during those moments he reminded himself that his agreeing to stay on Rosa would benefit thousands, perhaps millions of beings. His studies would benefit a smaller number – the people that would eventually make up his crew. It wasn’t a significant number when compared to the number of lives that could be saved if the research based on the _r’va_ flowers really did help the Federation find a cure to the plague, but to Jim, they would be as important – no, they would be more important - because their lives would be _his_ responsibility.

Bones rarely interrupted Jim when he was in the library, either too busy with the work that he vaguely mentioned but would not elaborate on, or indulging his need for solitude. That was why it startled him when, about a month into his exile, he heard claws clicking against the marble floor. Jim looked up from his book and noticed that Bones was watching him curiously before he marked the page and shut the text. “Something wrong, Bones?”

“I got tired of waiting for you with only a glass of bourbon to keep me company.”

Jim glanced at the window across the room, surprised when he saw that the view beyond the glass was inky black. “It’s that late?”

“You didn’t notice?”

“Um – no. I guess I got caught up in my reading.”

Bones made a disbelieving sound, moving to the table and shuffling through the books that were piled haphazardly around Jim’s chair. “Languages. History. Diplomacy.” Bones chuckled when he picked up the copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_ that Jim had added as something to read when he tired of the dry subjects scattered around him. “Interesting selection you’ve got here.”

Jim shrugged, tipping his chair back as he stretched his arms over his head. “Some of it’s stuff Captain Pike suggested that I read but I was always too busy to get through before. Others are subjects I wanted to study at the Academy, but couldn’t because of my course load.” When Bones gave him a questioning look, Jim elaborated. “I graduated from the command track in three years instead of the usual four. It didn’t leave me a lot of time for electives.”

“Impressive.”

Jim smirked, allowing the expression to become a leer when Bones rolled his eyes. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Pretty and egotistical. That’s quite a combination,” Bones drawled, though his ears flicked forward in amusement.

“Would you really believe me if I pretended to be modest?”

“Probably not,” Bones admitted, setting the copy of Dickens back onto the pile, smiling faintly as Jim chuckled.

“So what do you do all day while I’m studying my ass off?”

Bones’s expression grew guarded, the humor fading from his eyes. “Some research that I’ve been working on for awhile now.” He growled softly when Jim motioned for him to elaborate. “I’m trying to find a cure for a plague that hit this planet years ago.”

Jim blinked up at Bones, struggling to slow his wild thoughts. “You’re trying to cure the plague?” he asked carefully, sure that he’d misheard.

“Yeah, I am.” Bones looked away, seeming to be unable to meet his eyes.

Jim didn’t question the whys or hows of it, deciding that Sheree’s Gods must find coincidence amusing. “That’s the reason why I’m here,” he blurted out, causing Bones to focus on him again. He wondered why he hadn’t told Bones sooner, why it hadn’t come up in one of the dozens of conversations they’d had since Bones had first reluctantly agreed to dine with him. He shook his head, struggling to clear his mind. That didn’t matter. The subject had come up _now_.

“Remember when you said that I was coerced into staying here? You were kind of right. The Federation was negotiating a treaty over a rare plant that some doctors thought would be necessary to cure a plague. Before the Elders would agree to export the plant off-planet, I had to agree to stay on Rosa.”

“Do you know anything about the disease they were trying to cure?” Bones’s voice held a strange note that Jim had never heard before. Something like hope, but too pained to be described so easily.

“Uh – not really. I read the basics about it, but medicine was never an area I seriously studied.”

“That’s okay, kid. Thanks anyway.” But it wasn’t okay. It was obvious from the way Bones’ shoulders slumped and he somehow seemed to become smaller, less substantial, that Jim’s answer had damned near broken Bones. When the being looked up, eyes flat as unpolished stone, it was like a kick to the gut. Jim _had_ to find a way to give Bones back the fleeting hope he had unintentionally offered and then stolen away.

“Wait a minute,” Jim muttered. “Let me think.” God, there had to be _something_ that he could do. He’d read the reports. Spock had been so adamant about making sure Jim had read them that he’d been surprised that Spock hadn’t made him write an essay on the subject to prove he’d been paying attention. Though he could remember his friend’s reminders and their later discussions of the plague and the negotiations, he couldn’t remember what had happened to the reports.

“I might – no I do have the report.” Jim rubbed his forehead, ignoring the violent ache that throbbed within his skull as he struggled to remember. He’d brought it with him. He remembered looking it over before saying goodbye to Pike and the others. “Come on,” he muttered to himself, “I know this.” He had that report. He’d brought it with him. It was – saved on a PADD in his duffle. A final, sharp wave of pain accompanied the thought, but he kept himself from showing any sign of his discomfort, unwilling to worry Bones.

“I have a copy of the report the Federation sent in my room,” he announced, grateful that he was able to get the words out without betraying the pain that remembering had cost him.

“It would be something new to work with,” Bones said, voice tentative with a faint trace of that earlier hope.

“I’ll go get it.”

Bones followed him to his room, though Jim ended up jogging to keep up with him when his friend outpaced him. He noticed that the way was shorter with Bones accompanying him, though he wasn’t sure if it was because the magic noticed their urgency or because it Bones was growling what might have been words low in his throat.

Bones hesitated when they reached his quarters, lingering in the hall as Jim went in and began digging through the trunk where he’d stored his duffle. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave Bones a questioning look and gestured for him to come inside before resuming his search.

A few minutes later, he held up the PADD, finger hovering over the power switch. “Sheree said that technology doesn’t work here.”

“It’ll work. Little things like my instruments and your PADDs will work. It’s larger, more complex tech that can pick up interference,” Bones explained, his eyes never leaving the device in Jim’s hands.

“Let me check and make sure that it’s on this one and see if there’s anything else on it.” Bones nodded, watching Jim almost hungrily as he checked the files on the PADD, making sure that there was no information stored on the device that shouldn’t be seen by a civilian. He was already doing something questionable – giving information that was probably classified to someone outside of Starfleet – but he was sure there were doctors all over the universe reading similar data. Anyway, the _Enterprise_ had been sent to Rosa to try to find a cure for the plague. He was just helping further that goal.

When he was sure that there was nothing important or embarrassing stored on the PADD, Jim offered it to Bones. “Everything’s there, even the research files that Spock attached to the report.”

Bones cradled the device between his paws, holding it like it was something precious that would disappear at any moment. “Jim – You – ” Bones paused, swallowing hard. “You don’t realize how important this is to me. Thank you.”

Bones was wrong. He could easily see how important it was to Bones. It blazed almost fever-bright in his eyes, driving away the shadows that normally lingered in his hazel eyes. It was obvious in the reverent way he held the PADD, in the anticipation that fairly vibrated in the air around them. He’d done something important, Jim knew, something profound, for his friend.

“You know, I’m not really that hungry. Why don’t you look that over tonight instead of watching me pick at my dinner?” He would miss their evening conversation, but he knew that Bones would be too distracted to think of anything but the PADD Jim had given him.

Bones blinked at him, taking a few seconds to break through his reverie. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll probably even head to bed early.”

“If you don’t mind,” Bones muttered, his attention already returning to the PADD.

“Nope. Knock yourself out.”

Bones nodded vaguely and headed out of the room. He paused in the doorway, smiling as best he could. “Thank you, Jim.”

“You’re welcome,” Jim answered, ignoring the pang of loneliness that accompanied his friend’s departure.


	9. Chapter 9

  
**Chapter 9**  

His dreams had always been vivid, the result of a life lived to extremes, but within the confines of the castle, they gained an intensity that seemed more like well-defined memories than the landscapes of a sleeping mind.

The first of them had come to him a few days after his arrival at the castle. He had dreamed of being on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , captain’s stripes decorating his sleeves, his friends at their customary stations, and a man dressed in science blue standing beside him. Arms crossed over his chest, the man scowled out at the endless black painted across the viewscreen, though whenever he looked toward Jim, the man’s lips quirked slightly in wry amusement.

It was the first of many such dreams.

He dreamed of days spent on the bridge or beneath the foreign suns of newly-discovered planets, of battles won and lost, joy and pain mingled into a life greater than his waking mind could ever have imagine. Through it all, the one constant was the dark-haired man dressed in science blues who was always near, offering support and necessary criticism in equal measures.

Each night, the officer became more real to him, a vital player in the events conjured up by his subconscious. Every morning he awoke with the disquieting feeling that the solution to one of the universe’s great mysteries was within his grasp, yet whenever he concentrated too long on details of his dreams, they would shatter, leaving him with a frustrating, unexplainable sense of guilt that slowly faded beneath the onslaught of the new day.

**# # #**

The sun had barely broken over the horizon, a faint glow that tinted the skies pale gold and gave off just enough light to allow Jim to jog through the gardens without the lanterns that lined its paths adding their own illumination to the morning. He followed the paths around beds of sharply scented herbs and riotously colored flowers, taking in the subtle sounds around him: the soft slap of the soles of his sneakers hitting stone, the wind tangling through branches and leaves, the hum of some insect that always flew away too quickly for Jim to decide if it resembled the insects of Rosa or those on Earth.

The rhythm of his steps faltered as he caught sight of Bones moving across a section of lawn toward the rose garden with a wicker basket balanced between his paws. Jim slowed, jogging in place as he watched Bones, taking in the strange sight in front of him. For some reason, Bones seemed out of place in the garden, though Jim had seen him outside the castle dozens of times. It was as if the more mundane reality of flower beds and trees somehow clashed with the almost mythical reality of Bones.

His vision blurred, and, for a moment, he thought he saw someone else walking through the garden instead of Bones, but when he blinked, he found only Bones in front of him, all traces of whatever he’d seen vanished. He shook his head hard enough to cause a faint thrum of pain to tighten along his scalp, clearing away the afterimages of something that he wasn’t sure was illusion or hallucination. When Bones disappeared into the rose garden, curiosity overcame Jim's confusion.

Leaving the path, he cut across the grass, slowing to a brisk walk as he moved through an archway covered in yellow climbing roses. He breathed in the scent of roses, freshly turned earth, and morning sunshine before calling out, “Hey, Bones!”

Bones turned, ears flicking forward, head tipped to one side as he waited for Jim to catch up. “I thought you’d be on the other side of the grounds by now.”

“Decided to take another route today,” Jim said, gauging Bones’s reaction carefully, wondering why Bones hadn’t wanted him to be near this particular area of the gardens. “Want some company?”

There was a disconcerting look of hesitation in the thoughtful tilt of Bones’s brows and the angle of his ears though his voice was steady when he answered. “Yeah I do. I want to show you something since you gave me that PADD the other day.”

Bones seemed more certain of his offer as they wound their way between rose bushes and patches of plants that looked like some of the ones Jim had seen in the Great Temple’s garden. They headed toward the thick hedge that delineated the gardens from their wilder counterparts that made up the rest of the valley. For a few minutes, Jim thought that they were leaving the garden, though he knew that there was no gate nearby, then Bones turned left to lead him into a section of the grounds that he had barely noticed during his earlier explorations.

This area was different than the rest of the gardens. All the plants near the castle were perfect. There were no in between stages of gangly stems or dying blossoms. It had always struck him as unnatural that those stages of life were missing from the garden. Here, in the tumbled, rambling beds, the roses were like the ones his grandmother had loved, though they were a variety she had never cultivated. All the stages of growth were present: newly formed leaves struggling on spindly stalks to velvety blooms almost as wide as his palm to rose hips stripped of all their petals.

Jim sighed; a great, soft exhalation that washed away a tension that he hadn’t even noticed until he was suddenly free of it. Even without asking, he knew that this small sanctuary was free of the castle’s magic, though it still resided within the sacred valley. He closed his eyes, taking in the scent of sun-warmed roses that was so thick he could almost taste it, a simple reminder that there was more to the universe than the confines of the castle and its gardens.

When he opened his eyes, he half-expected to find someone else standing beside him instead of Bones, though he didn’t understand why. He turned a slow circle, ignoring the strangeness of his thoughts, taking in the multitude of flowers around him. Bones waited patiently for him process it all, before speaking. “These are the _r’va_ flowers that were mentioned in the report you gave me. I think they hold the key to curing the plague.”

Jim had seen the pictures that were attached to the files Spock had given him, but they hadn’t really conveyed the beauty of the rose-like flowers that held so much potential. He moved toward one of the bushes, studying a deep red bloom that was similar to the one that had been on Sheree’s alter. “I’ve seen others like them in the gardens near the castle, but these are different.”

Bones nodded as he pulled a pruning knife from the basket, a curious sight until Jim realized that for all his dexterity, shears would be too awkward for Bones to use. “These aren’t touched by the castle’s magic.” He cupped his paw gently around one of the red _r’va_ blossoms before cutting the stem with a careful slice of the pruning knife. “The magic allows me to have these ones as my own. Grown the old-fashioned way without magic altering them.”

“You take care of them?”

“As best I can. I’m not much of a gardener, at least not with flowers,” Bones admitted reluctantly, placing the cut _r’va_ in the basket before selecting another. “And there are times when my size is a disadvantage.”

“If you want, I’ll help,” Jim offered, unsure that Bones would allow someone else to care for the plants that were so vital to his work.

Bones’s expression became distant, considering, then he nodded. “I know you grew up on a farm, but do you know anything about plants like these?”

“My grandmother grew roses. She used to bribe me into helping her with chocolate chip cookies.”

“Though you would’ve helped anyway?” Bones guessed with a wry chuckle.

“Yeah I would’ve, though the cookies _were_ incredible. I don’t know how much like roses the _r’vas_ are, but you can tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“The future captain of the _Enterprise_ taking orders from me?” Bones chuckled, eyebrows sweeping up toward his ears. “Last time I checked, I’m not Captain Pike.”

Jim grinned at that reminder of their second meeting. “Then I guess they’ll have to be more like suggestions.”

“Well, if you’re willing to follow my _suggestions_ , then I’d appreciate the help.”

“Let me see if the castle can scrounge up a pair of gloves and we can get to work.”

At Bones’s nod of agreement, he jogged back to the castle, calling out to the magic that surrounded him that he needed a pair of gloves as he returned to his quarters. He snagged a couple of pieces of toast, eating as he pulled on the clothes that were sitting on the trunk, shoving the heavy gloves he’d found next to his plate into his pocket before heading back to Bones.

The rest of the morning was spent reacquainting himself with the feel of dirt beneath his gloved hands and sunshine warming his back. Bones showed him what needed to be done, mostly pruning and weeding areas where his broad shoulders made it impossible for Bones to reach without harming the surrounding plants. He’d never been fond of such chores when he was a kid, but it seemed different now. As he worked, Bones gathered up flowers and other materials for his research, muttering softly to himself as if he’d forgotten Jim’s presence. It was a soothing sound that melted into the warm, still air, filling his consciousness with an almost meditative sense of peace.

It wasn’t until a shadow fell across him that he realized how much time had passed, suddenly aware that his hands were aching slightly from work he’d grown unaccustomed to and his shirt was sticking to his skin from the heat of the autumn sun. He looked up at Bones, surprised when he found the doctor watching him with a strange expression he didn’t recognize. “Bones?”

Bones blinked at him, rocking back a step. “Um – I think we’re done for today.”

Jim stood, stretching muscles that protested the motion as he surveyed his handiwork. He’d finished all the necessary work; what was left was minor stuff that he could finish later. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

He noticed that the basket in Bones’s paws was full of flowers and bits of plant matter. “More experiments today?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a few new ideas thanks to those files you gave me.” Bones shifted the basket from one paw to the other, a strange nervous gesture that he couldn’t remember seeing Bones make before. “Want to come along? See the lab?”

“You have a lab here?” It shouldn’t surprise him. Bones had turned the ballroom into a basketball court. Of course he’d find some unnecessary room and alter its purpose to fulfill his own.

“How did you think I was conducting my research?”

“I dunno,” Jim admitted with a shrug. “I never really thought about it. It seems strange to have a laboratory in an –”

“An enchanted castle?” Bones interrupted dryly, and then chuckled. “Seemed weird to me, too, but it gave me something to do over the years.”

_Years._ Bones had hinted at time spans, but had never given any clear indication of how much time he was referring to. “How long have you been here?” Jim asked, uncertain if he should voice the question that had been lingering the back of his mind since he had first met Bones.

“Too long,” Bones answered simply, his voice so carefully neutral that it was painful to hear. “Come on,” he announced, his tone shifting to something more like his usual rumble, though his words still ached through Jim’s mind. “I’ll show you my work.”

**# # #**

The lab was primitive compared to the one Spock used aboard the _Enterprise_ but it was far more advanced than what Jim had expected to find in a castle, even an enchanted one. “How did you get all this,” Jim asked, voice hushed as he stared at the technology that surrounded them.

“Some of it was mine from before-” Bones paused, scowling to himself, eyes distant as they reflected a familiar sorrow. He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded toward an elaborate array of glass tubes that Jim recognized from his chemistry classes as a distillation system. “The simpler equipment - the glassware, racks, and Petri dishes – the castle was able to provide. The rest came from the priestesses. Some of their children became medics, and they periodically give me their older equipment to aid my research.”

“I didn’t know that you had regular visitors.”

“I don’t. The high priestess visits on the equinoxes and solstices to bring me things that the castle can’t provide.”

“To bring you –” Jim turned the words over carefully, gaping when a conclusion that had been drifting through his subconscious revealed itself. “You mean you can’t leave?”

Bones looked away, staring at a rack of test tubes, shoulders hunched, his voice a harsh growl. “My exile is different than yours, Jim. You can leave any time you want. I can’t.”

He wanted to ask why. Why couldn’t Bones leave? Why had the Gods taken everything from Bones? But he didn’t, knowing that the questions were unnecessary, and would only bring more pain to his friend. He remained silent until he found the _right_ question to ask. “Need any help?”

“Nah. I need to do this myself.”

Jim nodded and was about to turn away, when he found another _right_ question to ask. “Want some company?”

Bones watched at him for a moment, and Jim was sure that Bones would refuse, and then the doctor nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah, I think I would.”

**# # #**

Jim’s one afternoon spent in Bones’s lab led to another, and then another, until days when he worked in the library became a rarity. At first Bones complained about the intrusion, though his voice lacked any real conviction. Jim remained silent while his friend grumbled, tipping his chair back and propping his feet up on an unused section of counter, skimming whatever book had caught his interest until Bones finally accepted that Jim wasn’t leaving and resumed his research.

Most of the time they worked in companionable silence, conversation unnecessary. Sometimes though, Jim’s attention wandered from the pages in front of him to watch Bones perform various experiments. He told himself that it was only curiosity that caused his fascination, though he’d never been seriously interested in the sciences at the Academy.

The cadence of Bones’s voice as he whispered softly to himself, the surety of his motions as he worked, the intensity of his focus as he meticulously documented the results of a completed trial, each was a distraction that Jim couldn’t quite ignore. He soon found himself trying to imagine Bones not being in his life, and found it damned near impossible. It was a disquieting realization that he shied away from, unwilling to consider the implications of such thoughts, especially when he remembered that in a few months he would be leaving Rosa.

He couldn’t allow himself to have such thoughts, to consider . . .

Shaking his head, Jim looked up from his forgotten book to find Bones watching him, head tipped to one side, his gaze strangely focused, causing Jim to shift in his seat. “Need something?”

Bones blinked, his ears and eyebrows swooping downward in an annoyed scowl. “No. I just got lost in thought. That’s all.”

“Be careful, Bones. I don’t want to have to send out a search party.”

“Your concern for my welfare is heartwarming,” Bones glowered, though there was a hint of a chuckle in his tone.

“Anytime, Bones, anytime,” Jim said with a smirk, forcing his attention back to his book and ignoring the stupid, childish glee that settled in his chest as he realized he wasn’t the only one having problems maintaining his focus.


	10. Chapter 10

  
**Chapter 10**  

Jim Kirk was a master at distracting himself from the thoughts and emotions that he didn’t want to deal with. Those coping mechanisms had worked for years, though he’d given up his usual routine of barroom brawls and binge drinking after enlisting. The Academy had given him better access to intelligent, attractive beings to spend a night with so he had kept that particular method of distraction.

At the castle most those venues were unavailable to him. He could probably request enough alcohol to drink himself into oblivion and the castle would provide whatever type of liquor he wanted, but drinking alone wasn’t an option he preferred. Bones would keep him company if he asked –he probably wouldn’t even need to ask - but Jim had noticed how careful Bones was to only indulge in one glass during dinner, refusing to pour another no matter how much he seemed to want to pour another. It wouldn’t be right to put Bones in that sort of situation, to tempt his friend in such a way.

Most of the time, he could keep his more dangerous thoughts separated, pretend that they didn’t exist, couldn’t harm him if he let his guard down. Sometimes, it was enough, but confined to the castle with so little to redirect his thoughts, his control faltered, causing him to be caught up a malaise of claustrophobia that had nothing to do with stone walls.

When it became too much, he fell back on a distraction from his childhood. He impatiently waited for the sun to set and darkness to overtake the sky before heading for the gardens, choosing a path that would lead him away from the flower beds and the carefully tended roses to a gently rolling expanse of soft grass.

He stretched out on his back, head resting on his arms, the faint scent of roses lingering in the cool night air. Above him, the stars were a faint pattern dimmed by the lanterns that had sparked to life as he’d walked past. He rolled onto his side, glaring at one of the fanciful metal and glass globes that hung from a nearby tree. “You can shut off now. I’m going to be staying here for awhile so I don’t need a light.”

The lantern stubbornly refused to acknowledge his words. Typical. Muttering under his breath, Jim realized he was arguing with an inanimate object and flopped onto his back, closing his eyes against the annoying light that obscured the constellations spread out above him. “Great. I’m losing my mind.”

Jim sensed motion, a faint rustling of grass and fabric to his left, and smiled. He was getting better at picking up Bones’s nearly-silent movements. “I knew that already, but thanks for the warning.”

He opened one eye, squinting up at Bones. “Is that your personal opinion or your professional one?” Jim asked.

“Both,” Bones drawled as he awkwardly knelt down beside him, his joints not really made for the bending necessary. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to look at the stars, but the lanterns won’t listen to me. No matter what I say I can’t get them to go out.”

Bones frowned, looked over his shoulder and growled a phrase in Latin.

The lanterns flickered wildly for a moment, making Jim think of scattering fireflies, before the garden was suddenly engulfed in darkness. “Nice,” Jim chuckled. “Maybe if I my voice could reach that pitch they’d listen to me more.”

“It has nothing to do with pitch. It’s knowing the right words and knowing how to say them.”

Maybe he should’ve taken Latin at the Academy instead of that advanced course in Vulcan. “Do you think that if I learned Latin –”

“Maybe. The rules of this place are complex,” Bones said with a shrug. “I’ve been here awhile and I still haven’t figured them all out.” The admission was slightly mocking as it hinted at details of Bones’s exile. Jim ignored the questions that he wanted to ask, unwilling to voice them in a tactless rush that would cause his friend to leave.

Bones slowly eased onto the ground, cursing softly as he finally settled onto his back.

“Am I going to have to help you get up later?” Jim asked with feigned innocence. “I could rig up something with pulleys –”

“Shut up, kid,” Bones rumbled, lightly swiping at Jim’s arm; the barest hint of claws scraping against his sleeve.

Jim chuckled, returning his attention back to the sky. A warm, comfortable silence crept over them. The stars blazed in the darkness; a bright, cool reassurance that stilled Jim’s thoughts until he could find something that was close to tranquility.

He let out a contented sigh, smiling faintly at the sensation of grass brushing across his hands and the side of his face. There were so many things that he had hated about the farm, but he’d always loved the connection he’d felt with the universe whenever he’d snuck out of his room late at night to watch the boundless skies.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, minutes perhaps hours. It didn’t matter. The _stars_ were up there, shining as bright as they ever had, waiting for him to return to them.

“Do you really like being out there?” Bones whispered; his voice a bare rumble against the soft sigh of wind-touched leaves.

“Yeah I do,” Jim admitted, closing his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, knowing that Bones wouldn’t be satisfied with such a simplistic explanation. “I never really felt like I belonged anywhere on Earth, but in space -” He chuckled softly as he realized how maudlin he sounded. Damn, he’d been worse off than he’d thought. “I know it’s stupid to feel safe among the stars. Hell, my dad died somewhere out in the black, but I do. When I was a kid, the stars were the only constants in my life.”

He turned his head toward Bones, studying his curiously-shaped profile, wondering when he’d accepted the wolfish features as commonplace, when his perceptions had begun to change. “Have you ever been out there?” Jim asked, desperate to change the subject, to shift the direction of his thoughts.

“A few times.”

Jim rolled his eyes at the words. Bones was a master at giving just enough information to qualify as an answer, though he hated it when Jim answered his questions with the same sort of vagueness. “Did you like it?”

Bones growled low in his throat, shifting in a way that made Jim think that he would leave instead of answering. “Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.”

“Wow, Bones, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

He could feel Bones’s glare, the growl deepening – a subtle warning, but he knew that his friend’s anger wasn’t truly directed at him. Bones gestured widely at the sky. “I lost the two most important people in my life because I was out there instead of beside them when they needed me.”

It took a moment for Bones’s words to sink in, but once their meaning clicked into place, guilt tightened Jim’s chest and settled in his throat. “Bones – I – Oh, God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You can smack me if you want. You can even use your claws.”

“Then I’d just have to patch you back up again,” Bones muttered, his tone softening as he accepted Jim’s stammered apology.

“You did a pretty good job of it last time.”

“Not good enough. If you weren’t allergic to damned near everything I could’ve done something to minimize the scarring.” Jim remained silent, letting Bones continue his quiet litany of complaints about Jim’s abnormal immune responses, knowing that it was another method of distraction, just like stargazing.

Eventually, Bones grew quiet, a reluctant tension wrapping around them that Jim was uncertain of how to break. He expected Bones to leave, to escape the memories Jim had inadvertently reminded him of, but the being stayed beside him, staring up at a reminder of his loss.

God, he should have asked the castle for a fifth of whiskey and locked himself in his room for the night. At least he would have only risked hurting himself with his stupidity.

Before he could attempt another apology, Bones was speaking, setting free a careful spill of words that were full of the sort of quiet loss that he’d heard in his mother’s voice during those rare moments when she had mentioned the _Kelvin_.

“There was a distress call on some isolated little dustball of a planet. Newly terraformed and crawling with settlers too stupid or desperate to realize what they were getting themselves into. The engineers in their infinite wisdom had decided to try a new process instead of using the tested, reliable methods. The whole planet was their fucking science experiment and they authorized it for settlement.

“Their tinkering screwed up the planet’s tectonics and started a chain of natural disasters. Earthquakes, avalanches, floods, tornadoes – every kind cataclysm you can think. There weren’t enough doctors to deal with the aftermath so the poor bastards sent out a distress call.”

“My family and I were living on a nearby planet, so when the transmission came in, I volunteered.” Bones sighed, a tired, broken sound that was a reminder of a pain that would never be completely forgotten. “It’s what doctors are supposed to do. They’re supposed to put others’ needs before their own. Those settlers needed me so I went.

“It was worse than any of us expected. One natural disaster hit after another. Not enough shelters. Not enough supplies. Not enough hands to help save the injured and the sick. I stayed in that hell for months until the Federation finally managed to evacuate everyone.

Bones scrubbed a paw over his eyes and Jim almost told him to stop, that he didn’t have to tell Jim anything more, but the confession had went too far not to continue. If he offered Bones that escape before he finished, Jim knew that his friend would never forgive him for allowing him that weakness.

“The weather and magnetic fluctuations had made communications unreliable. It wasn’t until I was on the ship off that god-forsaken rock that I learned that my wife and daughter were dead. The authorities had been trying to contact me for over two weeks. The first messages were to tell me that they were both sick. Then, the later ones –”

Bones let out a shaky breath that was almost a bitter chuckle, though it held too much grief for the sound to be associated with even the most self-mocking humor.

“It was the flu. The goddamned flu. A strain no one had seen before but could easily have been treated if someone had noticed early enough. A vaccine was developed a couple of weeks after the initial outbreak, but that didn’t help the people who had caught it early on.

“I didn’t bother going back. It wasn’t home anymore. Eventually, I ended up here and learned about a plague that was killing kids. I promised myself that I’d cure this damned disease so that no one else would go through what I had. I know there are other diseases out there that are just as virulent, and I know that I can’t stop them all. But I can do something about _this_ one.”

Bones turned his head, eyes glowing in the darkness like a cat’s, though Jim suspected that it was more than just Bones’s unique physiology that was causing them to shine. “I know I can find the cure, Jim. I know it.”

As the quiet declaration faded into the soft sounds of the night, Jim could sense the wary expectation coiling through his friend. He knew that Bones was waiting for him to say something stupidly trite, to make some half-hearted claim of understanding that would be nothing more than a pretty lie.

Jim felt a similar sort of dread whenever anyone made the connection between the _Kelvin_ and his father. Hearing those pathetic condolences never got any easier, and there was no way in hell he was going to make Bones suffer through that, not when he knew how damned hard it was to accept those words as the kindness they were meant to be.

“You’ll do it, Bones.” He made sure that his voice reflected only his absolute conviction that Bones would succeed. “You’ll find the cure. You’re too brilliant not to.”

The soft glow of Bones’s eyes flickered as his friend blinked; Bones’s ears swooping forward in a motion that Jim had learned was a sign that he’d done something Bones hadn’t expected. “Thank you,” Bones whispered; his voice tentative as though he wasn’t sure what he was thanking Jim for.

Jim smiled up at the sky and answered with a simple, “You’re welcome.” 

**# # #**

A few nights later, Jim again found himself in the gardens, drawn to the heavens by a faint sense of homesickness that reminded him of the frustrating restlessness he’d felt before enlisting. He missed the _Enterprise_ and her crew, the welcoming familiarity of the stars, and the boundless possibilities that space offered him. He hadn’t expected Bones to find him a few minutes after the last reluctant light had extinguished itself at Jim’s carefully enunciated command, especially after Bones had so eloquently proclaimed his hatred of space, and by association, the stars.

Nor had he expected that Bones would continue to keep vigil with him as his nights spend outdoors became a habit. His restlessness left him, but the stars still beckoned to him, teasing his senses as they had since childhood. Bones never accompanied him while he cut through the gardens, always giving Jim time alone with his thoughts before silently making his way to Jim’s favorite spot and carefully easing down beside him.

Jim never completely forgot the ship and the life that were waiting for him, but his need for both lessened, slowly being replaced by another sort of longing that he could not bring himself to examine too closely. He ignored those strange, unsettling thoughts and their possible meanings, focusing instead on the night skies until he found something like contentment in the welcoming darkness, with the stars above and Bones at his side.


	11. Chapter 11

  
**Chapter 11**  

The sound of a door slamming against the wall – a sound that was completely alien in a castle with doors that swooped open at the slightest hint that someone was nearby - followed by a near-deafening shout of _Jim!_ jerked his attention from the book he’d been ignoring. He was already out of his chair, crouching low, waiting for some sort of attack when his brain caught up with the rest of him, telling him that his would-be aggressor was _Bones_.

“What the hell?” he complained, kneeling down to retrieve his book from the floor, pausing when he realized that Bones’s was standing over him. He looked up, the text falling from his hands when he saw his friend’s expression, the absolute joy translating easily despite his wolfish features. “What is it? What happened?” Jim asked, his tone mirroring Bones’s excitement.

“I found it, Jim!” Bones winced as his voice boomed through the library, setting Jim’s ears ringing. “Sorry,” Bones apologized, though he didn’t sound even the slightest bit repentant. “I did it. I found it.”

Jim grinned, placing his hand on Bones’s shoulder. “What’d you did? What did you find?”

“The cure. The information you brought was what I needed to finish. I found the cure to the plague.”

The declaration was a shock that should have been expected. Bones had been working relentlessly. Jim knew that Bones was a genius, and had never doubted that eventually he would find a cure, but the words still ricocheted through his system.

The air grew warm, almost too hot. He felt feverish, exultation and foreboding whispering through his blood. The reaction was unexpected, unnerving, an insult to Bones and his struggle to find a way to save countless lives. “Are you sure?” Jim asked, some miniscule part of him wishing, almost begging, for Bones to be wrong, for it all to be some sort of strange joke.

“Yeah. I think so. I can’t be certain until it’s been tested more thoroughly,” Bones admitted, “but I think this is it.”

Jim blinked, nodding vaguely, unable to trust his voice. His hand tightened on Bones’s shoulder, fingers tangling in his shirt, feeling the almost-silken texture of the fur beneath. This was something to be celebrated, yet there was something terribly wrong with the situation. He looked into Bones’s eyes, hoping to see some sign that his friend felt that same frustrating intuition but found only triumphant joy in their depths.

“Jim?” Worry edged Bones’s voice, snapping Jim out of his apprehension.

“Sorry. I just – it’s overwhelming,” Jim managed, smiling weakly.

“It is,” Bones laughed, truly laughed in a way that Jim hadn’t heard before. It was one of the few rare moments of happiness he’d shared with his friend; which made it worse that some damned premonition kept warning him that everything was changing in ways that Jim could not possibly comprehend.

“I’ve been working on this for so long that I can hardly believe it.” Bones looked shocked, dazed. Jim led him to one of the few chairs in the library large enough to support his friend, gently shoving Bones until he sat down.

“I knew you’d do it,” Jim said honestly, hoping that Bones would pick up on the pride he felt and not the sense of _whatever_ that was twisting Bones’s achievement into something to be feared.

“I haven’t done it. Not completely. There are things I can’t do here. My research needs to go to a proper lab so that the compounds synthesized and tested properly.” He shook his head and gave Jim a wry grin. “It’ll be the cure. I _know_ it.

“Sometimes, I thought I’d never do it,” Bones murmured, tipping his head back with a tired sigh. When he again focused on Jim, there were lines of worry creasing his forehead, causing him to wonder if maybe Bones _had_ felt that same foreboding. “You’re going to have to take my research back to the Starfleet base. I would, but –”

“There’d be too many questions that you can’t answer?” Jim suggested, avoiding the true reason why Bones could not leave.

“Something like that” Bones drawled wryly, keeping up the game of avoidance.

Jim didn’t want to say yes, felt something like dread settle in his stomach as he realized that he didn’t have a choice, no matter how wrong it felt to leave. Bones’s research was too important for him to let some stupid _feeling_ frighten him. “I’ll go.”

“Thank you, Jim.” The gratitude in Bones’s gruff, rumbling voice was almost enough to drive away the dread that whispered so insistently through his mind. Almost.

He looked away before Bones could notice his reaction, walking back to his discarded book and picking it up, whispering a vague “You’re welcome,” as he set it back on its shelf.

**# # #**

He waited until mid-morning to leave, deciding that he needed as much available light as possible while making his way through the forest. The delay would also allow him time to have breakfast with Bones and to say goodbye before he left.

Bones was unusually subdued during the meal; barely speaking as he stared into his coffee mug, giving only monosyllabic answers whenever Jim tried to coax him into conversation. Finally, Jim tired of Bones’s evasiveness and snapped, “What’s going on?”

Bones glared at him, brow furrowing and ears slanting back. “Nothing.”

“Yeah there is. You’ve barely said five words to me.” The glare intensified, but he was used to Bones’s moods and ignored the threat that wasn’t really a threat. “I don’t want to leave with you pissed off at me. Tell me what I did so I can apologize.”

“Your leaving’s what’s bothering me. It hadn’t really sunk in until this morning,” Bones muttered, his drawl creeping slowly into his words. “I know that you have to leave. The Federation needs that data, but –” Bones sighed, looking pensive. “It’s going to be hard getting used to being alone again.”

“What?” Jim stuttered, caught off guard by both the admission and the thought of Bones being alone again. “I’m coming back. The six months aren’t up.”

“Sure you are, kid,” Bones agreed sarcastically. “Do you really think that Starfleet’s going to let you go that easily? They’re going to want to know how you got that information.”

“They have to let me come back. The treaty says I have to stay here.”

“Not here, Jim,” Bones corrected, his voice subdued. “You agreed to stay on Rosa. There was nothing in the treaty that said you have to spend those six months with me.”

“I’m going to come back, Bones,” Jim promised, wrapping his hand around his friend’s wrist to try to add weight to his words. “I’ll only be gone for a week. I promise.”

Bones answered with only a resigned nod, his eyes never meeting Jim’s as they finished the meal in tense silence.

**# # #**

After their discussion at breakfast, Jim hadn’t expected to find Bones waiting for him in the great hall. As he made his way down the stairs to the main floor, shrugging his duffle onto his back, he slowed when he caught sight of Bones standing in the shadow of the great double doors.

For the first time in months, he was reminded that Bones was not human, was not even a species that Jim had met before he’d entered the castle. He seemed a part of the shadows, an entity that should not exist beyond the realm of imagination; a figure that belonged more in nightmares than among the finery of the castle.

Then, he looked up at Jim, one eyebrow quirking upward questioningly and the nightmare became nothing more menacing than his Bones.

Some of Bones’s earlier ire seemed to have faded, leaving behind frustration and resignation. Jim took the last few steps two at a time, jogging across the hall to stand in front of Bones. He saluted smartly, grinning when his friend let out a reluctant chuckle.

“I’m going to miss you,” Bones admitted, his shoulders hunched as he scowled ferociously.

“I’m not going to be gone long enough for you to miss me,” Jim countered with a smirk. “You’ll have just enough time to enjoy the quiet, and then I’ll be back, annoying the hell out of you.”

Bones’s ears flicked forward, and then slumped down to match the line of his shoulders. “Sure you are,” he whispered, the words sounding hollow, almost broken.

Jim reached out, half-expecting Bones to flinch away, and ran his hand lightly down his arm. “I promised you that I’ll come back. I don’t break my promises.”

“I know,” Bones rumbled softly. “I know.”

Bones gently pulled his arm from Jim’s grasp, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a glinting object. “I wanted you – God, this is awkward,” he muttered, shaking his head before holding out his paw and slowly uncurling his fingers.

A small silver ring rested on the inky black pad in the center of Bones’s paw. Tentatively, Jim picked it up, realizing that it was small only in relation to the size of the being that had been holding it. He twisted it between his fingers, realizing as candlelight wavered over the ring’s engravings, that it was a Starfleet graduation ring. It was old, the metal tarnished and dulled from having been worn for years.

Bones had never mentioned being connected to Starfleet but he had regularly proven himself too knowledgeable of the service and its ways to _not_ have been associated with the Starfleet in some way, either as an officer or as some sort of medical liaison.  
It was too small to fit Bones, but it _had_ to be his. Why else would he give it to Jim?

He waited for Bones to say something, to explain the gift, but his friend only stared at the floor as if fascinated with the patterns of sunlight cutting across the pale gray stone. He considered making some smart-ass comment to startle Bones into speaking, but then the finality of the gesture sank in.

Bones didn’t expect him to return.

He almost gave the ring back, a mercurial flash of anger almost getting the better of him. Then, he remembered Bones telling him of his years of isolation, broken only by rare encounters with the Priestesses of Rosa and the few people that had tried – and failed – to share his exile.

He slid the ring on his finger, the band slightly loose but not enough that it would slip off easily. The words ‘thank you’ seemed inadequate and he wasn’t sure that he could trust himself not to give into his anger. “I’ll see you in a few days,” he promised when he finally regained control of his temper, his voice hoarse, catching painfully in his throat.

“Be careful, Jim,” Bones warned in a rumbling drawl. “Don’t want you breakin’ your foolish neck out there.”

“I will be.” Another promise that he doubted that he doubted that Bones believed he would keep.

Bones followed him to the door, standing just inside the yawning arch as Jim made his way to the garden, his progress down the stairs more solemn than his earlier display.

He turned and waved to Bones with an enthusiasm he did not feel, reminding himself that Bones was wrong. He’d return to the castle as soon as he gave the PADD and its precious data to the people who needed it.

The walk across the grounds seemed impossibly long, the bright sunlight somehow faded despite the early hour, his thoughts snapping and whirling around his skull. He would return before the week was over, but it would only be a temporary solution. In a few short weeks, the six months would be over and he would be returning to the _Enterprise_.

It was a realization that he had been steadfastly ignoring, pretending that the inexorable crawl of time meant nothing, but now, he didn’t have the luxury of forgetting.

Once the six months were over, Bones would be forced again to live in that relentless isolation. The thought made him shudder. How could anyone exist in such absolute solitude, especially after having finally having – God, he would’ve gone mad years ago. It was amazing that Bones had managed to maintain his sanity.

But Jim couldn’t stay beyond the six months, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how hard it was for him to imagine Bones not being at his side. He had his duty. He had years left before he could even consider leaving Starfleet. Deserting was out of the question. He was first officer on the best ship in the Fleet. Captain Pike and the crew needed him. The _Enterprise_ needed him. Someday, she would be his. He couldn’t give that up. Could he?

His restless thoughts kept him uneasy company until the very moment he stepped through the open gate. Then, the maelstrom stilled, leaving behind only duty and affection for the crew that he’d been separated from for the past five months and the knowledge that the PADD in his duffle detailed the cure to a terrible disease.

By the time he entered the forest, his memories of Bones had faded until they were no more substantial than half-remembered dreams.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The first time he thought that something might be wrong was when he entered the Great Temple, his grin faltering when Sheree looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and frustrated hope. When he asked what was wrong, she brushed aside his questions, turning the conversation so that he found himself explaining that he had information that needed to go to the Starfleet base immediately. She drove him there herself, seemingly unaware of how incongruous it seemed that a high priestess could drive a car with such practiced ease at speeds that even Jim found exhilarating.

It wasn’t until he was on base, surrounded by scientists that were almost frothing at the mouth over the PADD he’d brought them, that he _knew_ something was wrong. When they asked him where he’d found the research, how had he obtained it, he could only answer with “I don’t remember.”

And he didn’t. He couldn’t remember a damn thing that had happened for the past five months. Each attempt he made to focus on his missing memories was rewarded with a blinding headache that almost caused him to black out.

He was sent to the medical center where the senior officer examined him, scanning him for every possible injury or disease that could cause memory loss. The doctor worked with a cool professionalism that was no different from what he’d experienced in the dozens of physicals he’d had since enlisting, but it felt wrong.

The process was impersonal, automatic, lacking something vitally necessary. When the doctor asked Jim about the faint scars that ran across his chest, a phantom pain shivered through him, accompanied by the sound of a deep, growling voice that frustrated him with its familiarity, though he was certain that he’d never heard it.

After the physical examination came a round of psychiatric tests that were just as ineffective as the CMO’s scans. Jim’s memory was a void, blank as a piece of slate carefully wiped clean. He never mentioned the auditory hallucination, knowing that he would never be cleared to return to the _Enterprise_ if anyone thought that her first officer was going mad.

Maybe he was crazy. It would be a simpler solution, one that was easier to accept, than the one that was being forced upon him. Something had carefully stolen the past five months from him, leaving his personality, his intelligence, and all his other memories intact.

He’d went through his duffle and its contents, scanning every file on the PADDs he found, searching each memento and item of clothing, trying to find some clue to what had happened to him since the day Pike and the other officers had beamed back to the _Enterprise_. He found nothing that he hadn’t packed for his stay on Rosa, save for the ring that he couldn’t remember owning.

It was a Starfleet ring commemorating some graduating class and it definitely wasn’t his. He’d never owned one and even though the date engraved on the face had been smoothed away by years of wear, he knew that it would not match the year he’d finished his training.

How he’d gotten it was another one of those memories that had so neatly disappeared from his memory, though he knew that he hadn’t owned it for long. His hand lacked the tell-tale groove that would have developed if he’d worn it regularly during the five months he’d been away.

He found himself staring at it when no one was watching him, twisting it carefully around his finger, watching the play of light across silver. Sometimes, he’d hear a faint voice that echoed like a river running through a canyon or see a flash of dark eyes that sometimes lightened to brilliant green.

At night, he dreamed of things that he had never seen, or at least he thought he’d never seen - castles and roses and stars that he’d never known until he looked up and noticed that the same patterns stretched across Rosa’s inky black sky. Sometimes, he would hear the soft growling voice from his hallucination; see someone looming over him, an impossibly tall shadow that for some strange reason did not inspire fear.

Each night the dreams became more vivid, tearing through his subconscious with a ferocity that had him lunging out of bed, gasping for breath, fingers curling around the ring until the band cut into his palm. The scars on his chest would ache so sharply that when he touched his sweat-slicked skin, he was surprised when he didn’t find blood staining his fingertips.

When the dreams became too much, when the thought of remaining in bed finally became intolerable, Jim left his too-confining quarters to wander restlessly around the base. None of the guards bothered him; accustomed to the nocturnal walks of the young lieutenant commander that had returned to Starfleet after months of exile with his memory fractured.

Eventually, he found an abandoned parking lot where the lights from the buildings behind him didn’t blot out the stars. Bundling his jacket into a makeshift pillow, he stretched out on the cracked cement, staring up at the night sky. The pavement was warm and smooth beneath his back - _there should be grass prickling his skin through his shirt_ \- with only his thoughts - _there should be someone else beside him_ \- to keep him company.

The stars did not offer him their usual comfort, their brilliance a cold reproach. It felt like a betrayal that he could not remember what had happened to him since leaving the _Enterprise_ , as if his lapse was somehow harming someone that was relying on him.

The skies of Rosa were spread out before him, a glimpse of the universe beyond, but he didn’t feel the usual tug of longing to be out there among the stars. He rolled his head to one side, a disappointed yearning overtaking him warning that he should be sharing the heavens with _someone_.

The thought whispered insistently through his mind as Jim slowly drifted into uneasy sleep with only the indifferent stars to guard his slumber.

**# # #**

He dreamed. . .

He dreamed of heavy silver gates shining mirror-bright in the sun. Of a castle that he had never seen before, yet its corridors were as familiar to him as those of the _Enterprise_. He ran through those halls, a dizzying maze that was meant to distract him with their grandeur, compelled by an urgent terror that he did not understand.

He ran until his breath came in retching gasps, heart beating frantically against his ribs, muscles trembling and barely able to hold his weight. When he was sure that he’d reached the end of his endurance, stumbling and barely able to keep himself upright, he found a half-open door that he instinctively knew was the one he’d been seeking. He staggered the last few feet necessary to lean against the frame, shoving the panel out of his way.

The room was a small study, at least small compared to the scale of the rest of the castle, illuminated only the sullen fire in the hearth. The knowledge that he had spent many hours in this room filled his mind. Sitting beside that hearth talking and laughing with . . .

His gaze focused on the center of the room, all else forgotten as he recognized the great, dark shape that sprawled across the carpet. Stumbling forward, he dropped down on his knees beside the being, shoving against one massive shoulder, cursing vehemently as he gently turned his friend over onto his back.

There was no resistance, no telltale sign of breath, no movement in the slack body beneath his trembling hands. Swallowing hard, trying to fight back the helpless fury that was clawing its way up his throat, he forced himself to look away from the too-still chest, to stare into empty hazel eyes that held no hint of reproach, no hint of condemnation.

No hint of life.

_Nonononononononono._ His fault. This was _his_ fault. Rage, grief, and a devastating loss that he could barely comprehend slammed into him, rocking him back on his heels as the barriers that held back his memories shattered. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. One word – No, one _name_ roared through his mind. Then, he was screaming, though he heard the sound only distantly, felt himself breaking under the onslaught, with only the name of the person he’d betrayed to cling to as his sanity threatened to slip away.

**# # #**

He woke . . .

He woke to pain raging within him like a wild thing, slicing viciously at his mind. He clenched his jaw against the agony, feeling like his skull was being crushed, like he would be struck blind by the force of the malignant energy that wanted to tear his recovered memories from him. Jim rolled onto his side, swallowing back bile, gasping roughly for air as he waited for the pain to subside.

He would _not_ forget. He would not _allow_ himself to forget.

Finally, the waves of agony ebbed, leaving him trembling, weak, but his memories once again his. When he could stand, he staggered upright, swaying and almost falling before his equilibrium settled. His whole body felt tender, like he’d just been in a brawl or had been ill for days.

He glanced up, watching the first hints of dawn slip across the sky, counting the days he had been gone. “Shit!” he hissed, his promise of remaining at the base for only week a bright reminder burning through his consciousness. He’d been gone six days. He had to get back before. . .

It was too unbelievable. Damned near impossible to believe, but he’d lived with the impossible for five months. He wasn’t going to fight his instincts just because logic told him that there was no way in hell Bones could pine to death like some character out of a children’s story. Pushing those thoughts aside, he ignored the hysteria clamoring at the back of his mind and sprinted toward the garages, grateful that he was off active duty until his memory returned.

He’d been told to report back to medical if he remembered anything about the past five months. That wasn’t going to happen, at least not until he was sure that Bones was safe. Then the doctors could run every test they could think of on him. Hypospray him with dozens of sedatives and anti-psychotics, put him in a straitjacket, or do whatever the hell they thought would cure him of his insanity. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was keeping his promise to Bones.

He commandeered a car using his charm when possible, his rank when necessary. He smiled at the officers and the guards that he passed - knowing any one of them could easily stop him - flashing his ID and using a few old tricks from his wild adolescence. The right amount of confidence exhibited without a trace of guilt ensured that no one questioned his actions. The guards at the gates even wished him a good day as he drove sedately through the gates.

As soon as the base was nothing more than faint blur in the rearview mirror, he hit the accelerator, pushing the vehicle to greater and greater speeds, grateful that there was no one else on the road so early in the morning. He felt the same rush that had overtaken him when he’d stolen his father’s vintage Corvette, grinning sardonically to himself as he remembered how he’d panicked when he saw the lights from cop’s hoverbike flashing behind him. At least this time he could actually see over the steering wheel and there were no quarries nearby.

Focusing on the road ahead and that crazed, childhood attempt at freedom allowed him to think past his fear for Bones. He ignored all thoughts of what had happened to him, what had happened to them both. He didn’t have time to worry. He had to get to Sheree and have her show him the way back to the castle. He had to get to Bones.

Grudgingly, he slowed the car when he neared Sheree’s village, unwilling to risk the life of someone whose only mistake was enjoying the awakening day. He parked the vehicle and sprinted up the path that led to the Great Temple, colliding with Sheree in his haste.

Instinctively, he caught her arms as she staggered backwards, helping her regain her balance. His surprise at finding her watching the Temple instead of one of her daughters vanished when Sheree’s eyes met his. He felt the weight of her guilt in that brief glance, suddenly understanding the grave look she had given him when he’d shown up at the Temple nearly a week earlier.

“You knew,” Jim breathed, his accusation confirmed by the woman’s subtle nod.

He wanted to rage at her for not warning him of what would happen if he stayed at the base too long, to condemn her for what would happen to Bones if he didn’t return in time. But his anger wouldn’t do Bones a damned bit a good, at least not focused on the high priestess. There were better uses for it, ones that would help him save Bones from the fate that Jim had inadvertently set into motion when he’d left the castle.

Taking a shaky breath, he reminded himself of Pike’s warnings that an officer needed to separate himself from his emotions. Somehow, he managed to find the clarity necessary to ignore the fear and anger that threatened to overtake his rationality.

Sheree looked younger, almost vulnerable, as she stepped away from him, barely recognizable as the confident high priestess he’d met months ago. “Mr. Kirk, I’m sorry-”

“There’s no time for apologies,” Jim interrupted, struggling to keep his tone even despite the sense of urgency that thrummed along his nerves. “I need you show me the quickest way to the castle before it’s too late.”

Sheree swallowed hard, caught off guard by his reaction, and then gave him another, more confident nod, the aura of high priestess again settling over her. “I’ll explain, as best I can, on the way.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, a low, raw sound that crawled along the back of Jim’s neck. Static electricity clung to his skin and the smell of ozone burned its way into his lungs. He stared into the forest, knowing that this journey would be nothing like his earlier ones through the wood. This trip would be anything but easy.

Forcing himself to look away, he turned to Sheree. “He was really cursed to relive a fairy tale?” It still seemed unbelievable, but now that his memories had returned and his mind was free of influence of the valley’s magic, he could not deny the obvious.

“Yes, though I doubt anyone ever expected the spell to last this long.”

He knew not to ask for more details no matter how much he wanted to know the answer. It was unimportant, unnecessary information that would not help him. And, if he thought carefully, he already knew the answer. It had been in the reports that Spock had given him, as was Bones’s true name, the one he had told Jim that he never wanted to hear again. He almost said it aloud, and then remembered that many cultures ascribed magical significance to names, and he was not willing to give the curse another reason to notice either Bones or himself.

Shoving aside those thoughts in case the magic could somehow sort through them and use them against him, Jim mounted his _k’tar_. The animal shivered, eyes rolling as another, more pronounced rumble of thunder drifted over them. Sheree caught hold of the _k’tar’s_ bridle, whispering soft words into the creature’s ear.

Jim looked over his shoulder at the dark mass of clouds that was building along the horizon, throwing a gray pall over the landscape. “The magic is going to do whatever it can to slow me down, isn’t it?” he asked softly.

“It will try to distract you, to force you to stray from your course, but you can’t let it.” Sheree placed a gentle hand on his boot, drawing his attention away from the approaching storm. “The curse was never meant to be permanent. It wants to be completed, but certain conditions must be met.” Sheree watched him for a moment before stepping away the _k’tar_ , eyes filled with hope and guilt. “My grandmother always regretted what she did, though her only other choice was to allow him to be executed. My family has been trying for years to help him. _Please_ save him.”

“I will,” Jim promised, unwilling to consider any other alternatives. He urged the _k’tar_ forward, allowing the animal to give into its desire to flee from the storm, the _k’tar_ breaking into a gallop as the first, icy drops of rain began to fall.

**# # #**

He rode for as long as he could, coaxing the frightened _k’tar_ to the limits of its endurance, somehow charming the creature past its fear of the muffled thunder that boomed within the confines of the forest and the thickening shadows that cast the trail in twilit gloom.

Eventually, the forest grew night-black, rain tearing through the branches overhead with a wicked, hissing sound that obliterated the thunder, causing the poor animal to stagger to a halt, hooves sliding on the slick trail. The _k’tar_ shivered and tossed its head wildly, refusing to move any farther, despite Jim’s reassurances.

He dismounted, quickly stripping the saddle from the _k’tar_ , and setting it at the side of the road where Sheree or one of her daughters could find it later. The rain would probably destroy it, but he would find a way to make it up to them later. The poor animal was too frightened to be allow to run back home encumbered by saddle and bridle. It would probably kill itself if it got caught on some low hanging branch.

The distraught _k’tar_ remained still only long for him to remove the bridle before pulling away from Jim with a sound that was almost a whine, eyes rolling as it jerked away from him and galloped back toward the village.

Hoping that the creature made it back safely, he pulled one of the glow sticks that Sheree had given him from his pocket - an old technology that, even as the centuries had passed, no one had bothered improving upon. He cracked the slender, plastic tube, sickly green light spilling over his hand, illuminating a surreal, rain-lashed landscape that belonged in a horror holo.

He walked only because the weather and terrain were too treacherous to allow him to run. The storm, or more likely the magic, had turned the smooth, pale road into a nightmare of slick mud, tangled roots, and sharp-edged stones. He forced back his impatience and ignored the steady rain that was beating its way through forest canopy, focusing on making sure he kept his promise to Bones that he wouldn’t break his neck.

The storm and the resulting darkness made it impossible to judge how long he struggled through the forest. His chrono had died when he’d first entered the forest. Not that it mattered how much time had passed. He didn’t know how much time he had left before Bones . . .

That realization goaded him into a careful jog, the images of his earlier dream a vivid reminder of what would happen if he was too late. It was impossible not to feel trapped as he moved slowly, yet steadily, toward the castle. Surrounded on both sides by bracken and trees, the branches above weighed down by the force of the storm, the road in front of him seemingly endless ribbon of mud.

He ignored it all, forcing his mind past his discomforts and fears, reminding himself that he _would_ find the castle in time. “There’s no such thing as a no-win situation,” he muttered, shoving his free hand through his rain-soaked hair.

Pike had reminded him of that truth years ago in a Riverside dive. The instructors at the Academy had tried to strip that resolve from him, but all their lectures and tests had only proven was that he needed to think outside the norm, to fight the odds, until he finally won. He’d be damned if he let some demented fairy tale succeed in breaking that belief when Spock and the _Kabayashi Maru_ had failed.

Even as the storm worsened, lightning filtering through the leaves in glaring white flashes that washed out the green light of the glow stick, icy rain beating down on him until it felt like his clothes were frozen to his skin, he kept moving forward. Kept reminding himself that he didn’t believe in failure. He _would_ save Bones. He would find the castle before it was too late. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe in any other outcome.

He rarely paused to rest, leaning against the slick bark of a nearby tree only when he felt his concentration waver or his muscles threatening to betray him. He measured those hated delays in the frantic beat of his pulse, the sharp pain accompanying each gasped breath, hating his weakness, sure that each time he stopped he was risking Bones’s life.

Hours, days, lifetimes passed until finally, _finally_ he saw the forest begin to thin, the faintest promise of light slipping between the bracken and the silvered trunks.

He allowed himself to run.

He dodged the tangled roots that seemed to reach out to pull his feet out from under him, ignored the sharp-edged stones that threatened to slice through the soles of his boots. Leaping seemingly innocent looking puddles that from his experiences on other planets he knew were anything but innocent, he skidded and slipped, barely maintaining his balance as he broke through the trees, stumbling to a bewildered halt in front of the silver gates and the pale stone wall that bracketed them.

The last time he’d crossed that threshold, the walls had been almost invisible beneath their cover of pale, ever-blooming roses. Now, the wet stone shimmered in the gloom, its blanket of flowers stripped away with only a scattering of browned-edged petals left as a reminder of its past beauty. Tentatively, Jim stepped forward and touched one of the tangled vines, tracing a fingertip lightly over a withered leaf, wincing when it snapped away to spiral slowly to the ground.

Moving toward the gates, he paused only long enough to realize that they would not open for him before giving them one solid push. When the panels refused to swing free, he cursed softly and began to climb, his hands and feet sliding on the rain-slick bars. Swinging a leg over the decorative metal that curled around the top of the gate, he dropped to the ground and stared at the gardens and knew that he was running out of time.

Every plant in the gardens was dying, though the roses, the flowers that were so intricately woven into the magic, seemed worse off then the others. The glorious blooms were gone. Some had been stripped away by the force of the storm. Others had simply died, killed by some blight had caused the blooms to rot on their stems, and the plants to look skeletal and broken. The few roses that survived were faded, desperate things that would soon succumb to either the ravages of storm or disease.

He cut through the garden, ignoring the temptation offered by the stone pathway that had cracked and buckled during his absence, sensing that the curse would find a way to keep him from the castle if he followed that seemingly easier route. Heedlessly, he ran across the sodden grass and through what had once been carefully groomed flower beds, now a gnarled ruin of gray-brown stems and shattered blossoms, only slowing when he neared the dying roses, sensing that if he harmed the fragile plants he would indirectly harm Bones.

His perception of time had been skewed by the storm and the magic around him, but not his sense of direction. The gardens had changed while he was away as if sections of the dying land had been ripped up and placed in a new configuration. He’d grown used to the halls and rooms of the castle changing in ways that he could never completely understand, but the gardens had been one of the few things in the valley that had never been altered by the whims of magic.

It was unnerving as hell, but Jim refused to allow himself to be distracted by the improbability of it all. A slow, steady anger burned through him as the enchantment twisted around him, striving to keep him away from the castle. He focused on the ground a few feet in front of him and the instinct that told him that the castle was _that_ direction no matter what conflicting evidence his other senses provided.

He would _not_ allow himself to become lost in the curse that was trying to keep him away from Bones. There was no such thing as a no-win situation and he was going to prove it. Gods and magic be damned, he would _not_ lose Bones.

When he finally stumbled to a stop at the foot of the stone stairway leading to the castle’s double doors, he was sure it was some sort of trick. But they didn’t disappear when he took his first tentative step, and he didn’t hesitate once he realized that they would stay firmly in place beneath his feet.

He bolted up the stairs at a frantic pace until his muddy boots slid across one of the smoothly polished treads. He fell down onto one knee, hissing softly as bone collided with stone. The pain centered him, fueled his resolve, though he moved more cautiously as he climbed the remaining steps.

He didn’t bother waiting to see if the heavy doors would open for him, slamming his shoulder against the carved wood until the panels parted enough to allow him to limp inside. The candles nearest him shivered anxiously alight.

_Take me to Bones,_ he almost shouted, then a shudder of apprehension crawled down his spine. He remembered his dream of wandering labyrinthine halls until Bones had been lost to him, remembered Sheree’s warning that the curse would try to distract him from his task, and instinctively knew that the magic was waiting, preparing to judge him by both his words and his actions.

Taking a steadying breath, he allowed his voice to slip into the deeper, more controlled tone he used whenever he was on the bridge. “Please take me to Dr. Leonard H. McCoy immediately,” he ordered, praying he had said the right thing, that he hadn’t just condemned Bones to the fate shown to him in his premonition.

There was a trembling moment when time spun into a breathless, fragile eternity that Jim dared not shatter. His breath caught, his pulse roared in his ears, deafening in the silence that surrounded him. Chest aching, heart pounding desperately in his chest, he waited. . .

Finally, thankfully, a spark ignited two of the candelabras that flanked the grand staircase. The faint light barely managed to fight back the darkness, but it was enough.

“Thank you,” he whispered roughly into the uneasy silence. The hall seemed to warm as his voice drifted through cavernous space, as if it had suddenly become filled with afternoon sunshine, the anxious silence replaced by something tentatively hopeful. When, another burst of light broke through the darkness of the second story landing, he again whispered his gratitude, and ran toward the stairs.

**# # #**

The mysterious force that had guided him during his early, confused days in the castle _tried_ to help him, but that magic was weakening. The lights were barely able to maintain a dull glow, the doors only able to shudder weakly as they failed to open for him. He avoided thoughts of what the wavering magic might signify, reminding himself that as long as it _tried_ to follow his orders, then Bones must still be alive.

The path he was shown was a jumbled, patchwork insanity of hallways and rooms that finally skewed his sense of direction in a way that neither the forest nor the garden had managed to achieve. It was unnerving, frustrating, but he did not dare try to find Bones on his own, not when he was so mixed up that he doubted he could even make it to his room without aid.

As Jim was led through what seemed like endless kilometers of dark hallways, he pretended that he didn’t notice how the shadows lingering in his peripheral vision seemed to edge closer in a way that they should not. A preternatural chill settled along the back of his neck, an awareness that he was being watched by things that he knew would only disappear if he turned toward them.

He ran until he was light-headed, barely able to drag in enough air to ease the burning of his lungs, pain spiking viciously into his side with each gasped breath. His muscles trembled until he was surprised that he could still stand, let alone run. His vision blurred - from sweat, from unshed tears, from exhaustion, he wasn’t sure which – until all he could see was a smear of pale light ahead and the shadows that drew ever closer.

He pushed himself past his limits and knew he’d pay for it later, but didn’t care. As long as he could keep running, moving, fighting, he would and, when he couldn’t…. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to give up. He wouldn’t stop fighting. He’d still find a way.

The thought snapped him out of his exhaustion into almost fever-bright clarity, causing him to focus on the candles that flickered wildly meters away, flanking the one door he recognized in the convoluted madness the castle had become. Somehow, he forced himself to move faster, to shove his way into the study, barely managing to stay on his feet as his knees threatened to give out beneath him.

Just as in his dream, the room was lit by a weary fire that only reached a meter or so past the hearth, thick shadows almost swallowing up the meager light. Carefully, Jim edged farther into the study, forcing his gaze toward the center of the room, hope and desperation twisting together savagely when he realized Bones wasn’t there.

Relief transformed into something that he would _not_ allow himself to call despair when he noticed that one of the shadows near the hearth was too dense to be natural even within the walls of a castle wrought from magic. As he staggered forward, firelight gleamed dully against dark fur, sliding forlornly over blue cloth.

_Bones!_

Ignoring the insidious whispers of _Toolate.Toolate.Toolate_ that seemed to accompany the frantic beating of his heart, he knelt beside the being that was nearly hidden beside the desk. “Bones, I’m here. I’m here,” he murmured, “I told you I’d come back.” He was unable to stop his softly spoken litany, trying to push aside the desolation that hovered at the edges of his mind as he carefully eased Bones onto his back, praying that the motion wouldn’t cause further harm. “Sheree told me Bones. She told me what happened. I know what happened to you. I know. I know –”

His hand shook as he splayed it against Bones’s chest. He let out a shuddering sigh that was damned near a sob when he felt faint movement beneath his palm. The too-shallow hitch of breath steadied him as he watched Bones’s face, desperate to find some reaction to his presence, some sign that Bones _knew_ that Jim was there. “Wake up, Bones. God, please, Bones. Wake up for me.”

He know those words wouldn’t work. He remembered the fairy tale and knew what he needed to say, but it still seemed impossible that three simple words could be powerful enough to shatter the magic that had entrapped Bones for decades.

What if he said them and they didn’t work? What if they weren’t enough? What if what he felt wasn’t enough? What if _he_ was never meant to break the spell?

Jim shuddered. Shoulders bowing against the weight of his doubt, he silently fought and raged against it, his hands curling into fists until Bones’s ring cut deep into his palm, the small, sharp pain shocking him out of his desperate thoughts.

So close. God, so close. A few moments more and . . .

He couldn’t believe the thoughts that had crept into his mind. They weren’t _his_. He _knew_ that they weren’t. He knew what he needed to say and that those words would be enough. And if they weren’t, he’d find another way to save Bones, even if he had to tear the whole damned castle apart stone by stone to force the Gods of Rosa to listen to him.

He picked up Bones’s paw, cradling it between his hands, reassured by the warm, familiar weight of it. “You’re going to be a stubborn bastard aren’t you?” Jim chuckled, his voice cracked and trembling as he shook off the last vestiges of the magic that lingered in his mind. “You’re going to make me say it.”

He closed his eyes, gathering up all of the memories and emotions he had that were tied to Bones, allowing those thoughts to fill his mind and heart until everything else fell away. Bowing his head, he pressed a kiss against the center of Bones’s palm, the pad feeling like warm leather against his lips. “I love you, Bones. Please wake up.”

The words reverberated softly through the darkness, gathering strength as they echoed against stone walls until they seemed to fill the study with layers of sound that somehow pushed back the shadows. Bones’s paw flexed against his hands, and then claws were scrabbling against his forearm, digging through sodden cloth into the muscles beneath. Jim’s eyes snapped open to meet Bones’s gaze. Terror and recognition raged in Bones’s eyes before he threw back his head, screaming in pain as his back arched up off the floor.

Light crawled over the length of Bones’s body, nearly incandescent as the force of it burned against Jim’s skin. He jerked his head away, wrapping both hands around Bones’s arm even as he felt Bones’s claws twist and slide deeper into his flesh. Fear tightened Jim’s chest as Bones struggled against the force of the magic that was overtaking him. He felt more than heard the sickening pop of bones breaking and joints sliding out of alignment, Bones’s screams drowning all other sound. Something slick and warm trailed over his fingers, though he wasn’t sure if it was Bones’s blood or his own.

Then, there was silence, and Jim felt something new beneath his aching fingers - cloth and underneath that, the smoothness of skin. Heat and light faded, allowing him to look down at the hand curled tight in his sleeve.

A hand, not a paw.

He stared at strong fingers that ended with blunt nails instead of claws, at knuckles that were marred by faint scars, at the blue sleeve that fell across the wrist. It wasn’t quite the same blue as Spock’s uniform, but close enough to the color that Starfleet science and medical officers had worn for decades.

The sound of someone – Bones – Dr. Leonard H. McCoy - gasping desperately for breath shocked him out of his reverie. Jim leaned forward, taking in the details of a face that he remembered vaguely from the files on his PADDs and vividly from his dreams.

He looked older than the man Jim had seen in those holos, a man entering his thirties instead of the grieving twenty-something doctor that had been sent to Rosa. Dark hair, rugged features set off by a stubborn jaw that was shadowed by stubble, an expressive arch of eyebrows that Jim _knew_ would broadcast Bones’s moods as eloquently as spoken words.

“Bones?” he whispered, suddenly afraid that the sound of his voice would cause the man lying beside him to disappear.

Slowly, Bones opened his eyes as his breathing settled to a more natural rhythm. Familiar hazel eyes stared up at him in wonder and disbelief. “Jim?” His voice was different now, though similar in all the important ways. The same gruffness, the same inflection, the same depth of carefully disguised affection

“Yeah, it’s me, Bones. I told you I’d come back.”

“I know, but – ” Bones scrubbed a hand over his face, and then stared at his fingers incredulously, flexing and curling them clumsily. “Good God,” he murmured, voice almost breaking as he struggled to sit up. Jim caught him by the shoulders, bracing Bones as he shook, ignoring the shudders that wracked the man’s body.

“It’s done, Bones. It’s over,” he whispered, pretending he didn’t see the tears that made their way down his friend’s face, holding him steady until the worst of it had passed.

“Sixty years,” Bones rasped, leaning heavily against Jim. “It’s been sixty years since –”

“You look pretty damned good for sixty,” Jim interrupted, intentionally miscalculating to distract Bones.

“Closer to eighty, kid. I was around your age when I was sent here,” he snapped, accompanying the words with a glare that should not have looked so familiar in a face that Jim was just beginning to learn.

He found himself reaching up, running his thumb lightly over Bones’s jaw, his breath catching when Bones didn’t pull away. “Sixty, eighty, you still look good, old man.”

He proved his words the only way that seemed acceptable for the conclusion of a fairy tale. Slowly, he leaned in, hesitating just long to make sure he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself, and brushed his lips against Bones’s. There was a tremulous, breathless moment when the castle – no the whole planet – seemed to grow still, then Jim was breathless for a completely different reason as Bones pulled him closer, hands tangling in Jim’s coat as he deepened the kiss.

When Jim finally leaned back just enough to look into Bones’s eyes, he found that the loneliness and grief that had ensnared him during their first meeting had dimmed to nothing more than memory, burned away by the cautious joy shining in their depths, and Jim knew that the Gods of Rosa had finally been appeased.


	14. End Notes

_A Kind of Magic_ was based on the fairy tale, Beauty and the Beast with a nod to the beautiful versions by Robin McKinley. Her versions of the story are some of my favorites and I hoped to capture the sense of wonder that I felt every time I read them.

There are many people that I want to thank for their help and support on this project. There’s so many of them, that I doubt that I could name them all without forgetting someone. So I’m going to try to make this simple.

I would like to thank my family for supporting me during the past few months of frantic writing, offering me both support and distractions whenever necessary. Thank you to my flist and my brainstorming group for cheering me on when the panic got the better of me. I know you’re all probably sick of hearing about the various incarnations of this story and I’m grateful that you all stuck with me during the process.

Many, many thanks and virtual cookies to my alpha reader [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=silkmoth10)[****](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=silkmoth10)and my beta readers[](http://danceswithgary.livejournal.com/profile)[ **danceswithgary**](http://danceswithgary.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lauriegilbert.livejournal.com/profile)[**lauriegilbert**](http://lauriegilbert.livejournal.com/) (who did double duty as both an alpha and beta reader). Any mistakes in this story are mine, not theirs.

Thank you to [](http://scatter-muse.livejournal.com/profile)[**scatter_muse**](http://scatter-muse.livejournal.com/) for the beautiful, inspiring artwork created for this story and [](http://echoinautumn.livejournal.com/profile)[**echoinautumn**](http://echoinautumn.livejournal.com/) for the fanmix that accompanies it.

And thank you to the moderators of [](http://startrekbigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[**startrekbigbang**](http://startrekbigbang.livejournal.com/) for starting this challenge. You all deserve a round of applause for putting this thing together.

Last but not least, thank you to everyone who reads this story.

Selina

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my alpha reader [](http://silkmoth101.livejournal.com/profile)[**silkmoth101**](http://silkmoth101.livejournal.com/) and my beta readers [](http://danceswithgary.livejournal.com/profile)[**danceswithgary**](http://danceswithgary.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lauriegilbert.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lauriegilbert.livejournal.com/)**lauriegilbert** (who did double duty as an alpha and a beta reader). Without their help this story wouldn't have come together. Any mistakes are mine.
> 
>  **Link to Art:** [HERE](http://scatter-muse.livejournal.com/10857.html)  
>  **Link to Mix:** [HERE](http://echoinautumn.livejournal.com/37176.html)  
> 


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